


My Life

by murpymurpwriter



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abandonment, Abusive Sonia Kaspbrak, Adult Eddie Kaspbrak, Adult Losers Club (IT), Adult Richie Tozier, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anorexia, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Anxious Eddie Kaspbrak, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Comedian Richie Tozier, Control Issues, Depressed Eddie Kaspbrak, Divorce, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Eddie Kaspbrak Needs A Hug, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, F/M, Food Issues, Gaslighting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Marijuana, Mental Health Issues, Moving In Together, Multi, Munchausen by proxy, Other, Parent Death, Past Drug Use, Rehabilitation, Reunions, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Risk Analyst Eddie Kaspbrak, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Therapy, Time Skips, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, morbid obesity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2020-10-14 21:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20607992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murpymurpwriter/pseuds/murpymurpwriter
Summary: Eddie doesn't know how things got to be this way. He should be past all the childhood trauma, right? He hardly even remembered all the bad things, that is, until he makes a mistake and sends Richie Tozier a message on Facebook.Revised May 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes the realities we create from our trauma are the most frightening demons of all.

_He feels something humming just below his skin, anxiety and anger and shame mixed together despite how oddly clear his mind is. She wants her food and her pills. She asks where her refills are but doesn't give him the chance to explain. His mother is in rant mode, and thankfully doesn't seem to notice that he is home early from school. That would only add to the lecture that already covered everything from needing to find a new doctor who would take her back injury seriously to his friends._

_"We talked about this. You were going to stop hanging around that trashy Tozier boy."_

_" He was being polite. He just walked me to the door."_

_She scoffs, " I doubt that boy has ever been polite a day in his life. Don't you see he's a bad influence, sweetie?"_

_Fed up and already so tired, he doesn't answer but this seems to upset her more. When he tries to hand her the drink he has prepared for her, an iced glass of sugary juice, he winced when her sausage-like fingers coiled around his wrist. Her eyes narrowed as she hissed, drawing him in to prove her point. But he is able to move away from her by twisting and shoving the cold drink towards her face in a clear sign that she should take it. He knew what was to come but frankly he was at his wit's end._

_"What has gotten into you! "_

_" Nothing, " he sneers which only escalates things._

_"I am getting really tired of your attitude. This is why I told you not to hang around those, those hoodlums. They've turned you into this sulking, snippy- Oh, if your father were around to see how you treat your poor mother-"_

_Something snaps within him._

_"Oh really, " his voice warbles and that strangely calm part of him seems to be in control," Well maybe I should follow in his footsteps then and just...jump off an overpass."_

_A chilling silence prevails and she just looks at him like he is a stranger but he doesn't turn away. He won't back down from this challenge because he saw the article, and he has sat on the truth for too long. He's always been afraid to confront her about what he knows, but he's just so sick and tired of being afraid and lonely and miserable. He just can't take her lying and manipulation anymore as he has come to the point where everything she says is questionable in his mind, even the things he never was brave enough to consider like the illegitimacy of her back injury. But it wouldn't be so far-fetched he realized since she was willing to lie to him about his health as a child and about her health and about the real world would seem so much scarier coming from her than what he experienced so far, and now this. Fighting back angry tears, it is painful but somehow a relief having this out in the open. _

_"He was so disgusted by the both of us that he fucking killed himself-''_

_His mother covers her mouth, actually looking sick, " Dear Lord, no. That's not-"_

_" I know what happened. I saw the fucking article! He threw himself off the damn overpass. It's pretty damn clear! "_

_Her eyes overflowed with tears as she shook her head, gasping, " No, Eddie, my baby! It wasn't like that-"_

_" Stop lying! I know now! My dad-''_

_" He was sick. He had prostate cancer-"_

_"That's bullshit and you know it. He was perfectly healthy, just like me despite all those pills you forced on me. He didn't want us-"_

_" No-"_

_"Yes-_

_" NO, EDWARD! LISTEN!"_

_He stops, stunned by her scream. Surely the neighbors heard, "It was me! I smothered him. I couldn't do anything right. H-he couldn't stand it, " she hiccupped and suddenly, Eddie was listening, " He didn't want me! He hated the thought of me taking care of him. I just wanted to take care of you both-"_

_" He wasn't sick."_

_" He was, I swear he was. He was terminal, inoperable. I swear, sweetheart, you can look at his medical records yourself."_

_Eddie pauses, wondering if she's bluffing. He's shaking, on the precipice of something. So many twists and turns and all he really wants is the truth. Why can't someone just tell him the truth?_

_" He...his life insurance paid off the house, " she whimpers, " Some went to legal fees after...the case resolved. He left a good amount to you, for when you turn 18. He loved you so much, Eddie. You were the one good thing that came from us. But he couldn't stand the idea of getting sicker and sicker, and being stuck at home with me."_

_" It doesn't make any sense-"_

_She wails, hiding her face in her hands, " This is why I tried to keep it from you. I only wanted to protect you-"_

_" From what? How was lying to me protecting? How is any of this, " yells as he gestures to the messy living room aggressively, "-protecting me? I don't get to have friends or a normal life. I don't get to play sports or do after school activity. I don't have time for anything except taking care of you. "_

_"I don't mean to be this way, Eddie. I-I love you. I'm your mother-"_

_" And I wish you weren't!" He bellows as he heads upstairs at a breakneck speed. Eddie feels sick and his ears are ringing, but he can't stay still. His breath is coming out in rapid pants and he has begun to pace. How can he come down when it feels like the world is closing in on him? She’s calling for him, wailing. He ignores her easily enough until suddenly...there is a horrible scream, and a crash. He’s on his feet before he even realizes it._

_"Please, help! Please!”_

_He flew down the stairs and found her on the floor. The arm of the lazyboy looked squished, collapsed and long ago the legs stopped raising but soon enough he ignored the chair for his wailing mother. _ _Her puffy, red face was pressed into the stained, litter covered carpet by her own weight (he rarely had a chance to clean in here but she always messed it up so quickly) but he felt frozen. His legs were glued to the floor as he watched her enormous body flail weakly against the ground. _

_“Eddie, help me. Oh, Eddie, it hurts. Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t breath!”_

_“I c-can’t, mommy, “ he wheezes; he can’t lift her. He had never been strong, always short and slow in gym. She had long dwarfed him, her hands and fingers swollen from the processed meals he buys at her request or the occasional burgers he grabs from the diner she used to work at. (He’d long given up on using the money from her disability checks for healthy food because she would only yell, and weep, and refuse to eat it). She had been forced to remove her wedding ring a year ago, the circulation having been cut off as her weight grew. _

_“Eddie, please! Eddie, help me! My back, oh no, my back!”_

_That sheet had fallen and she was bare to the world now, covered in stretch marks and her body dimpled with cellulite. He felt cold and hot, cold and hot but he couldn’t bring himself to move even as she sobbed and called for him shrilly, pathetically. This was his mother, his only family, and he couldn’t even-_

_He sobbed, gripping his face in his hands as his breathing stuttered in his chest. He didn’t know what to do. He was just some sheltered teenager who did as he was told and needed routine to function. But then he hears it, now that her sobs have become harsh breaths and sniffs._

_“Baby, call 911, “ she says and he nearly trips as he stumbles to the phone on the wall. He drops it but it is attached to a cord so he is able to recover it and dial. He thinks he hears her talking to him but the words are echoing in his head. He has to call 911, has to get help because he can’t lift her-_

_“911, what’s your emergency?”_

_His mouth was so dry, causing his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. He struggles to speak, “ I-I need an ambulance. I need help. My mom, s-she needs help.”_

_“Can I have an address and the nature of the emergency?”_

_He sputters, “ I, she, I’m at home. I live at, um, so y-you take a right at Neibolt-”_

_“Exact address, sir.”_

_Eddie sobs childishly and the operator continues to question him, gently and professionally probing him for information. It feels like forever until someone knocks on the door and he feels lost. Does he stay on the phone or get the door? Does he check on his mother? How long has it been since he left her for the phone, since she called out for him as she struggled to breathe?_

_“Sweetheart, we have first responders at your door. Can you open it for them? They’ll help your mom, okay?”_

_Eddie’s knuckles hurt from squeezing the phone, “ There’s a cord.”_

_“Cord?”_

_“T-the phone, the phone cord.”_

_“That’s okay, Eddie. Just hang up and the EMTs will help you, okay?”_

_He doesn’t remember giving her his name, doesn’t remember much of what she said but he drops the phone, heading to the door with tunnel vision. He can still hear his mother’s horrible, sick breaths but she’s not crying anymore. He struggles with the chain on the door (Don’t forget the chain, Eddie-bear. Someone could come in. Lock the doors and put the chain on, sweetie, before you go to bed. And could you grab me my leftovers before you go?) and the firefighter at the door is older, greyhaired and stern._

_Eddie doesn’t move out of the doorway immediately so he ends up with two firm hands on his shoulders as he’s walked backwards. Two more firefighters enter the house and one curses when he sees the living room, and then Bill’s father is in front of him, patting his cheek. But Eddie is looking past him. They brought a back board but his mom won’t fit. His mom won’t fit on it and he’s not sure if she’ll make it out the door, and if they can’t take her to the hospital, how can they help her? And now he thinks she’s crying again and they’re not helping her, he knows, especially when the two firefighters try to grab her arms and she yells in pain._

_Her back, he wants to yell, she hurt her back and that’s why she’s on the floor, that’s why the house is a mess, and the reason she’s so heavy but the words are stuck in his mouth just like air is stuck in his lungs. He doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. Maybe he should go get the phone, ask the operator what he should do, how the firefighters are going to get her through the door._

_“We have to tear it down, the door frame.”_

_Eddie's ears start to ring and all he can see are blurred faces and patrol car lights. What are they going to do? What is he going to do? He feels cold, no, hot then cold again; he feels nauseous and he’s scared, so scared that he’s gonna be sick and choke-_

_" Then what? We'll need a lift for her. And what do we do at the hospital? The beds are too small-"_

_Too small, too small-_

He wakes up and he's no longer in Derry, no longer 20 years in the past or everything in this life was beyond his control. And yet he still lets out a sob in the darkness, feeling his wife's stir next to him. She lets out a fumble and then her hand is on his shoulder, hot and soft. It's supposed to be comforting and yet he wrenches himself away.

"Edward-"

He's almost running to the bathroom and she's no doubt sitting up in bed, hurt and confused. after a moment she comes and stands in the doorway of the bathroom as he washes his hands and splashes water on his face. No doubt she can tell that he has still shed a few tears and it's moments like this that he is reminded that they used to be such good friends. She's looking at him with such care and he doesn't feel worthy of it.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's okay. Do you want to talk about it?" She looks uncomfortable but he knows the offer is sincere; she has never really known how to handle him when he is vulnerable, since he is usually the one to offer comfort. He is the man after all.

He shakes his head as if somehow that will drive away the leftover images and feelings of a nightmare; his ears are still ringing and stomach is still turning but he tries to put on a brave face," No, dear. I'll be fine in a minute."

"Is there...anything I can do?"

He approaches her slowly and kisses her on the forehead, much like a brother would a younger sibling; he behaves like she is the one in need of comfort and he supposes she is. she was the one who had to go to work at 7 a.m., the one who had a husband who had reoccurring nightmares that woke her so often and couldn't even remember to bring home the right ice cream. She ducks her head, mumbling a soft good night as she returns to bed.

No, he thinks as he stays in the bathroom a little longer just to collect himself. He doesn't want a divorce. He just wants to be a better person.


	2. Chapter 2

His leg is jiggling and no matter how hard he tries to concentrate on making it stop, the urge to move is much like an itch. If he doesn’t do something, the feeling becomes almost unbearable and as soon as his concentration breaks, he's bouncing his knee once again. Eddie hates that this is his tell, and he recalls knocking his knees on tables during college classes, the way his coworkers would glance in his direction when his cubicle seemed to tremble. He would be so engrossed in the financial reports and endless stream of numbers that it would often go unnoticed, like he didn’t even exist in his body, until he saw something on his desk wavering or he moved and caught himself.

But one trick he had learned was to stand, and so he did.

The middle aged woman who sat before him, the one he now loomed over...they were probably roughly the same age. He had noticed quite a few wrinkles popping up on his face, an abundance of grey hair on his head. He thought his nervous disposition would have left him entirely grey by now but small mercies. He didn’t exactly like being an old man, but it did mean professionally he was taken more seriously. Pacing a little, though he tries to make his strides long and casual, he looked at the posters on the walls with false calm. They mostly encouraged self care and he frowned at them, before looking back at his therapist. Well, not his. This was his first appointment and he did have a history of coming for one session and them waiting a good seven years before he found the courage again.

“Mr. Kaspbrak, is there something you wanted to open with?”

He keeps his face blank, though after a moment he likely looks sheepish, “ Not particularly. I think when I made the decision to come it was, well. I’ve been told that I’m, uh, unsociable. And that isn’t to deprecate, just... I guess I thought you might have some recommendations. Um. About work life balance.”

“Ah, I see.” she smiles a little, “ Having a balance is very important. How often do you see your friends, or go out for a social engagements?”

“Uh, well, my wife had a work dinner. Last...month, I think.”

The therapist nods, “ I see. How did you enjoy the dinner?”

Eddie tried not to wince because he hadn’t really spoken the whole night, and Mayra had kept an almost uncomfortable grip on his arm as if he was a child that might stray, and she had even served him a small plate of food, telling people who clearly didn’t care or wish to know about her husband’s various allergies. Then she had gotten drunk on wine, and he had quickly tried to get her to leave the party with him, his face no doubt red with embarrassment. It had taken a few attempts, but eventually she was tucked into his side, her sausage like fingers digging into his ribs as they left the event room, left the hotel entirely and walked to the valet parking to pick up the car.

When they arrived home, she stumbled through her nightly routine which he left her to though he kept an ear out if she fell. But as he came into their bedroom to change into his own night clothes, she had asked so casually, 

“Do you want a divorce?”

He had looked at her, speechless and she had simply turned over in bed, pulling the covers over her head. The next day it wasn’t addressed and in the last month, she hadn’t said another word. It had scared him into getting her flowers and chocolate, sending her a few more texts than usual during the day but eventually he wrote it off as a drunken mistake.

As far as he knew she hadn’t had any issues at work, and he hoped that was the first and last work related event she went to. Usually she was just as introverted but occasionally she went out with her girlfriends, leaving him to watch netflix or go to bed early with their cat sleeping behind his boney knees. Recently, her return involved her stumbling in drunkenly which was... different. She never used to drink but she had started a few months back...maybe the work dinner should not have come as a surprise.

Swallowing, he said noncommittally, “It was alright.”

“And you haven’t really connected with friends recently? No phone calls, emails, through social media, even just a quick lunch or cup of coffee in the break room at work?”

_Sometimes he was just fed up with his friends and he knew it was irrational, knew that they cared about him and that he really was being a prick lately but he was just so tired of everything. He didn’t want to pretend to be interested in sports and dances and college and high school gossip about who was fucking who or who was having a party. He just wanted to be left alone, wanted to eat but also not eat because sugar and carbs meant weight gain and insulin shots might be waiting for him too, And fuck, he wanted to pass his classes and not have to stress about his attendance and his teachers pulling him aside with questions-_

_His mom has been grumpier and needier since she went to the doctors. They hadn’t given her the pills she wanted, instead diuretics and ibuprofen until higher authorization could be put in. And Eddie thought it was bullshit because if someone was in pain, why deny them? Well, he knows about opioid abuse is an epidemic but his mother was many things but a drug addict wasn’t one of them. He wanted to, had to believe his mother was in real pain because he didn’t understand how someone pretend so convincingly and moreover, he didn’t think he could wrap his head around things overwise._

_Eddie really wished he could tell the losers, just get all his worries and stress out in the open because he honestly felt like exploding. But no matter how much he wanted to the words stayed trapped behind his teeth and he continued to blow the gang off, continued to be a dick whenever they tried talking to him until...they didn’t talk to him all that much. He sat at the lunch table or out behind the football stadium while Bev and Richie smoked, quiet and working on some piece of homework that he barely had the concentration for. They didn’t say anything to him and a few times he went into the cafeteria to find they weren’t there, that they hadn’t given him a heads up that they were going to the library or to behind the stadium or skipping all together so he started sitting outside his classroom or in the boys bathroom. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t bother him, that he had other things to worry about and they probably didn’t hate him- Mike still greeted him and smiled at him in class. Ben highfived or waved at him in the hall, their lockers awfully close to one another._

_He tried to not be bothered by Richie’s absence because it wasn’t like they were really best friends. They argued a lot, were more like nemesis but everyone said they must be close given how much they fought. But Eddie thought it was because Richie liked getting a rise out of him, but now the fun was wearing off. And so he didn’t bother anymore, too busy flirting with all the girls who liked his unruly hair and leather jacket that he always wore. He had Bev and Stan, while Bill, Mike and Ben (who was a pretty good lineman for football, they all realized) got into sports more and more. Eddie just didn’t fit. He was a different kind of loser-_

_“What’s got your panties in a twist?”_

_He turned suddenly, so suddenly that he was dizzy. He hadn’t heard his bedroom window open but there Richie was, climbing in with some difficulty. He was all long limbs and shaggy hair, and the smell of cigarettes was overpowering. Eddie was the opposite; he’d finally learned how to trim his own hair, having found his dad’s old shaver in the bathroom drawer. He saved on haircuts this way but it had taken him a few tries, had meant he had almost a buzzcut since he had had to fix a few mistakes. And he was still short, barely 5’4 and not thin (skinny fat; he’d heard a girl use that description and even though he was a guy he thought it was a good description for his jiggly but still small body)._

_It’s when Richie has turned to shut the window that he leaves his daze._

_“You gotta go. You can’t be here. What the hell are you thinking-”_

_“I’m thinking you didn’t fucking show at Bill’s. We’ve been waiting two damn hours. The pizza’s cold, the damn candles have melted onto the cake-”_

_“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about-"_

_But then he does. Then Eddie does remember. Yesterday had been, well..._

_ Heading to school with watery eyes and a brain fog that refused to dissipate, Eddie had known it was going to be a shit day when his English teacher pulled him aside, "Your grade has fallen a little," she explained, " partly I think because of your attendance. I checked with the front office and they seem to be unexcused. Is everything alright, Edward?" _

_ He had nodded, all smiles and she let him go with suspicion, giving him a list of assignments he needed to redo or submit. So few of them were on his list he realized, a lump developing in his throat. He made it through PE, walking the track with Ben and jogging a little any time the teacher looked their way. Ben says Bev is having a pizza party Friday for her sweet 16. He says he'll try to go and luckily, Ben accepts the answer easily. Study hall is a life saver and he starts on a history packet he'd overlooked but doesn't finish before the bell. He turns it in anyway and to his horror, Mr. Moore flips it open, looking at the blank lines. _

_ "Mr. Kaspbrak, " he says dully, " Any particular reason you didn't do page 3 and 4?" _

_ Eddie's hands start to shake and the lump grows, and to his horror Mr. Moore continues to speak about class expectations, faltering grades, and of course accommodations for those uninterested in history. Eddie wants to convey to him that it's not a lack of interest or motivation but the words twist in his mouth and somehow, some way what leaves his lips is a small and quiet, " My mom needed me." _

_ Mr. Moore blinks, "Your mother?" _

_ "She has a hurt back, " he swallows and it's like a stuttering tidal wave; his hands twitch at his side but he can't stop the verbal diarrhea. He doesn't want to say this, to reveal what he's going through because he hates pity. But he also desperately wants someone to understand, for one person to not be disappointed or to think he isn't trying, " Sometimes she c-calls for me and I get d-distracted from everything. Like it's not really a big thing, it's just me not being able to concentrate because there's so much in my head. But I was going to finish it, really. I like history, actually, um... I'm so sorry. I'll do better next time." _

_ After a long moment where the two of them are just breathing and looking at each other, the paper is slid back to him and his teacher is nodding, as he takes off his glasses, " Turn it in tomorrow, completed. And in the future, just let me know if you need more time or if you have difficulties, alright?" _

_ Eddie nods, grabbing the paper and nearly running to the cafeteria. He's gotta finish it, the packet and his essay and his math exercises- he blocks out the conversation of the gang as he does homework at the lunch table. He snaps at someone, Bev he thinks, when they shove a packet of cashews onto the space he's writing; he reminds them that he can't eat nuts, and that they should know they make him sick and that he has to work on this project- He thinks Mike is the one who ends his tirade by taking the packet away. He regrets his overreaction a moment later but when he looks up, they are all talking among themselves and ignoring him, with Mike happily eating the salted cashews. Eddie doesn't want to interrupt and honestly, he wouldn't be so stressed and snappish if he was more organized. How could he let so many things fall to the wayside, he thought, cursing when the lunch bell rang and he struggled to collect all his work that he'd spread on the table. He was supposed to be a good student. He was supposed to be a good son. He was supposed to not talk about the things that went on at home. He was supposed to be a good friend who laughed and joked with the gang instead of making non-committal sounds and studying while they socialized. _

_ "-coming, right?" _

_ He looks up, sees Bev's hopeful smile, and a thumbs up from Mike, a grin from both Ben and Bill, and even Stan raises an eyebrow expectantly so he nods. He smiles weakly and reassures her that he'll be there. And it's not even that he doesn't want to go because he does want to go. He misses them like crazy and so he tells himself that he can handle all this. He can go, as long as he finishes everything he needs to do. It feels like a lot but part of him relaxes as Richie tries to read his answers, the handful he'd scribbled on the packet, upside down. Eddie used to be able to sit with them and enjoy the company of his friends. But despite being at the same table he feels like he's a thousand miles away... _

_Richie shoves him, maybe a little harder than necessary because Eddie falls on his ass. He doesn’t understand and he wracks his brain, but comes up with a blank. He didn’t remember them saying anything about a party. What was the occasion? It was, wait, what day was it? He forced himself back to his feet, and goes to open the window._

_"It’s a school night. You can’t be here.”_

_“Who cares about school? What, you wanna spend the rest of her birthday studying? Eds, what is going on with you? You’ve been avoiding us and now you ditch Bev's birthday party!”_

_Eddie is sweating because any second she’s gonna call out and he doesn’t know why but...he rubs a hand over his face and his features scrunch despite his desperate need to keep his composure. There’s a shift in the atmosphere as he feels his eyes overflowing with hot tears. He feels his throat start to close and his teeth grit but then...a shaky sigh. He can feel Richie’s confusion but he shakes his head, steps back because he has to leave. He doesn’t want to do this right now but-_

_“Hey, jeezus, sit down, Eds. Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong? “_

_“Please go. P-please.”_

_Richie looks hurt but Eddie is begging now, as quietly as he can but his friend is speaking in a normal voice, that carries throughout the house given the thin wall and his open bedroom door. Tv was loud downstairs; he could hear it. Any moment now she is gonna call out and then everything was gonna fall apart. And maybe a small part of him, a part of him that was just so exhausted and hungry, said to just let it. He should show Richie his mom downstairs, show him the list he maintained, tell him the truth that he couldn’t sleep or eat or even remember one of his best friend's birthday. But Richie is listening and looking at him now, disturbed by his reaction and his pleas to leave...maybe he didn't deserve friends at all. The taller teen pats his friend on the shoulder awkwardly, looks a tad frustrated but mostly unsure of what to do as his feet lead him back to the window._

_“Please, Rich-”_

_His friend opens the window and softly asks, “ Eddie, if something is wrong you gotta...fuck...I’ll see you at school tomorrow, right?”_

_Eddie nods and watches, crying, as the tall teen leaves. He goes to shut the window long after he hears footfalls across the lawn and the start of the beat up VW, long after he hears his mother sleepily call for him. The window shuts heavily, with finality. His breathing quickens and as he turns to head downstairs, he feels that the walls are coming together. He's too big, he's too big to fit in his room and he can hear his mom and Richie-_

But all that was years ago. That was too many years ago, he tells himself. Stay in the present. Realizing he has been quiet too long he does his best to compose an answer, "I’m...I don’t have a lot of coworkers that I’m friends with. I’m known as a stickler. I wouldn’t say I’m unfriendly, just...I’m in a supervisory role and I take it seriously.”

She nods as if that doesn’t make him seem like the world’s biggest asshole, “ And outside of work? Hobbies, volunteering, book clubs, Toastmasters...how about family?”

Eddie freezes, “ I don’t have any living family. Mayra doesn’t either.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine. I...my mom died when I was still in highschool. “ he moves to sit and it’s not just his leg that’s shaking, “ My father died when I was younger than that, close to five. “

“That’s so hard to lose a parent, when you’re so young. You were a minor when your mother passed. Where did you go? A relative?”

Eddie takes a deep breath because for some reason it feels like he hasn’t been breathing, or like just the strength needed to talk has left him winded, “ I went to live with mom’s sister. Finished school here in New York, went to college, got a job, and here I am.”

“I see. Are you not originally from New York?”

“Derry. Up in Maine.”

“I see. Have you kept in touch with any of the friends you had in Derry? Or maybe some college friends?”

“No, “ he admits and he thinks about the radio silence he had received after he’d moved. Though, to be fair he had really pushed the Losers away by the time his mother had her massive heart attack at the end of Junior year, “ I wish I had but no. And I worked a lot, while I was in school. It didn’t leave me alot of time to make friends, and I guess I’m more introverted."

She nods and jots something down on her clipboard, and it sets Eddie’s teeth on edge. This was the first time she had written something down which meant he had said something, did something strange. The feeling that he was short of breath came back and he coughed, getting her attention again. He muttered something about asthma and she nodded, leaning forward a bit more as he tried to get a handle on himself, and of course his damn leg was jiggling away-

“You know, there are different groups you can join in the community. Church groups if you’re religious, maybe a hobby like painting or pottery, maybe a jogging group. You could start a date night with your wife, maybe double dates when your work schedules can mesh.

“I’ll look into it.”

She smiled warmly but there was something about her posture, “ Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

He sits for a moment longer, eyes drifting to the clock when he hears her speak, not unkindly, “ We have forty minutes left, Mr. Kaspbrak. You are allowed to talk about anything that you’d like during that time. We’ll go at your pace.”

“I miss them, “ he blurts and it leaves him feeling exposed.

“Who, your family?” her eyes have become so gentle.

“No, “ he answers too fast and she seems startled, “ No, I mean I...do. But the friends I had in highschool, back in Derry… I don't talk about them often, or really think of them. It’s been so long now but...they really were the best people. Memories of us going down to the quarry and just shooting the breeze...I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. Hah. To be young and naive, I guess.”

The therapist is looking at him so softly and Eddie realizes his eyes are wet. He rubs at them furiously and straights up, trying to smile confidently. He's not even sure why he brought it up, “ Toastmasters sounds interesting. It might help when I do presentations at work.”

“Have you looked for them?”

"Toaster masters?"

"Your friends back in Derry."

Eddie bites his lip; he had but…” I wouldn’t know how. What, I just hit them up on Facebook?”

“What’s wrong with that? They likely would be happy to hear from you, to remember those days that you yourself are so fond of.”

“Hah. I doubt they remember some scrawny kid from twenty something years ago. No, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Humans are social creatures but sometimes we get so caught up in supposed faux paus that we are too afraid to put ourselves out there. I wouldn't call that intrusive.“ she pauses but her tone is soothing, “ Mr. Kaspbrak, the worst that will happen is that they don’t respond. The best would be that you get to reconnect with a group of people that you cared very much about.”

Eddie couldn’t imagine why the Losers would want to hear from him after all these years, after all that he had done (or not done, because he had really just erased himself from their lives, only telling Mike that he was leaving for New York). He thinks back to the last time he saw Richie Tozier and it just feels like it's impossible; there was no way he could reach out to him first. But...he could probably look for Mike. He seemed the most receptive, and so he slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d immediately connected to the wifi when he’d arrived because there was always the possibility of an important work email coming in but...he pulled up Facebook. He was getting the jitters but there wasn’t anything else to talk about, anyway to stall.

“Have you thought of who you’ll look for?”

“Mike...Hanlon.”

He types the name in, looks for a match in Maine (he sees a match in Florida but the profile is private and there is no photo, and the other Mike lives in Michigan and is white). Nothing comes up and he moves to turn off his phone and pocket it when his therapist leans forward with a hesitant look.

“Do you remember the name of anyone else? You said friends so is there another name maybe?”

Eddie thinks for a moment, once again avoiding the idea of talking to Richie because out of all of the losers if anyone was going to hold a grudge it would be him. He knows what Bill is up to; he’s an author and married to a movie star so he’s always in the news. And he knows he’s seen Ben’s name on several building projects related to their company but the others...he didn’t think Stan would be interested, probably not Bev either...he laughed bitterly but shook his head when he received a curious look. He pockets his phone and shakes his head, eyes back on the clock. Just twenty more minutes.

“I don’t actually. I remember first names, nicknames, “ he lies and she looks sympathetic.

“Do you have any photo albums? An old yearbook?”

“No. When I moved my aunt put a lot in storage while they prepared to sell the house but...she defaulted on the payments and they cleared out the unit.”

The therapist nods, “ That sounds like it would be hard, to lose your friends, your belongings, and your home as well as your mother. Did you ever visit or try to make contact after the move?”

“I...I don’t remember a lot from that time. I’ve never gone back to Derry, though. There...never seemed like a reason to. Like, it would all just remind me of everything that happened, that my mom had...It wasn’t easy. For me. Of course. That makes sense, right? You lose a parent and you...but it was a long time ago. I have my own home, my own life and things are much different.”

“Just because it happened a long time ago doesn’t mean we can’t feel upset by something. Did you ever go to someone after your mom passed?”

He leaned back; seven more minutes, “ Oh, like a therapist? No.”

“Was there a reason why?” she presses when he doesn’t explain.

“It wasn’t like I didn’t think about it but I guess being in a new environment, in a new school and all that….it really distracted me from it. My aunt took care of everything, and I wasn’t so much a kid as...I mean, I was seventeen but I was almost a legal adult. I didn’t really have anything to say. I was grieving but I didn’t really feel the need to talk about it.”

“You never talked to your aunt?”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, “ She...she didn’t like talking about it. “

The therapist opens her mouth to perhaps ask another question but a timer goes off on Eddie’s phone. He starts to stand and he offers her his hand rather awkwardly, which she shakes with an almost dazed look. She was thinking deeply about his answer and if nothing else that made him more sure that he wasn’t coming back for another session.

“Thank you, Mrs. Caballero. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your afternoon.”

“Uh, thank you. I’ll introduce you to Sheli, our secretary. She’ll pencil in an appointment-”

Eddie shakes his head as he heads through the cramped lobby, straight for the door; he’d done this enough times that he knew how to escape any office no matter how persistent the therapist, “ I’ll have to call once I know my schedule next week. Thank you again. I’ll call about another session when I can-”

The door shuts behind him and he rushes down the stairs fast enough that he feels a bit dizzy at the bottom. But he keeps doing, until he reaches the ground floor. He’d walked from work and now he was going to head back, work on his latest project but...he looked at the search bar that he still had pulled up on his phone. He typed an R then an I and...he saw the name pull up and while the location said Los Angeles, the photo made it clear. He’d found Richie on Facebook but it looked like his friend was some kind of actor, comedian, or entertainer. Surely he didn’t manage his own social media…

And maybe that is why he types a message and hits send in the Facebook Messenger App. Of all people Richie was the least likely to respond and it made him feel better, knowing the outcome. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he heads to work and doesn’t worry about checking for a reply. His project easily takes all of his attention and it isn’t until nearly 9pm when he’s still at the office that he thinks to send Mayra a message about him coming home close to 11pm. He’s typing it out when a notification disrupts his typing. He squints:

_ **Edward J. Kaspbrak** _

_ Hello. You probably don’t remember me. We went to school together. I just thought I would say hello. _

  
  


** _The Richie Toz_ **

_ holy shit. thought u were dead. _

_ remember u?? Bro no one forgets the unforgettable eds spageds _

_ What made u think of me _

_ I hope it aint my last stint in rehab cuz that shit was way blown up in the media _

_ Or maybe u just were checkin to see if i went bald like old wents _

_ NOPE _

_ Hey can i call you. This is surreal for me man. 20yrs!! _

The notifications kept appearing and he could see Richie typing and typing. It was too much. He wasn’t supposed to answer. He wasn’t supposed to be interested in speaking to the asshole that had blown him and the rest of their group of friends off all those years ago. They weren’t supposed to remember him because what if they remembered what his life was like back then- he has some kind of breakdown in his office, pacing and crying and wheezing. It’s been a long time since he’s felt like this. He should block Richie but then again, Eddie had been the one to reach out. It just would make things worse. He should have thought things through, should have stopped when he couldn’t find Mike.

He doesn’t dare look at his phone as he curls up on the sofa in his office, an arm slung over his face. Fuck his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I don't want this story to come off as fat shaming, or making fun of people with weight problems or the "less accepted eating disorders. Mayra and Sonia are not bad people because they are fat. Their weight isn't suppose to act as a strike against them. They are people, with feelings and stories, and somewhere along the line they developed an unhealthy relationship with food. Their eating disorders are self destructive, just as much as they are harmful to the people around like Eddie; binge eating is just as much a disorder as anorexia, orthorexia, and bulimia, or unspecified disorders.
> 
> If you have feedback on how I can better represent this, let me know.

On his way home from work, he calls Mayra and he can hear her chewing. It makes him wince but he doesn't comment because its his weird hang up; its irrational. So instead he starts making a list inside his head as he changes the direction of his driving. He'd already almost been home when he realized he should call because she would pout and give him the silent treatment otherwise. Afterall, she almost always wanted something from the grocery store or for him to finish off one more errand for her because she worked too, Edward, and it wouldn't kill him to pick up the dry cleaning or grab their prescriptions from the 24/7 pharmacy. But at almost 11pm at night there wasn't much he could do, other than go into a Safeway and grab a small hand held card. Their prescriptions were already picked up and he couldn't think of anything else, besides her list, that he needed to do.

Mayra had texted specific brands, with specific ingredients to avoid. Eddie was used to it and so he grabbed it all, heading to the self check and paying with card. He didn't even bother to look at the total. having already calculated it based on what he had grabbed (and that was only because he liked numbers and it was his job to do fast calculations). Not only would he get an email alert soon enough letting him know there had been a charge. That was proof enough that he was a different person that when he was a teen, more secure and adjusted; it had been years since he had to worry about having enough money for the bill. He hadn't put an item back since he lived with his mom, and if somehow some way the card declined he had three other credit cards, Apple Pay and an emergency $50 in the visor in his car. It wasn't wise to carry cash in New York on your person (he'd learned the hard way in college) but he always had a back up plan.

What hadn't changed was, well, to be honest he much preferred online shopping and delivery services to going into stores. Even when the store was empty like this, and the employers were mostly busy cleaning up to bother him, and he didn't even have to deal with a cashier...he sighed. Men don't usually like shopping, he tells himself. It's perfectly normal and he would hardly call him anxious when he had to go in person, just...uncomfortable. He knows plenty of men who shop online like he does, and even if Mayra complains about him always getting ill fitting clothes because refuses to go into a department store, he still prefers online catalogs. He can't be the only one, and so grabbing his full reusable bag, he leaves Safeway and heads to his car. He takes a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel. He didn't want to go home and that certainly was irrational. Why wouldn't he want to go home to his wife? Home was where his bed was, and his expensive walk in shower, and his vegan meals that were careful portioned, and his medication that helped him sleep after a long day, and plus if he didn't go home his mom's groceries would be wasted- Eddie froze.

Mayra. Not his mom. Mayra's groceries had to be brought home to Mayra or they would be wasted.

He starts the car and heads home, his head full of static and his heart beating erratically. Maybe that single therapy session had stirred things up in his head. Yes, this had to be it and it seemed like a decent enough excuse not to go back to see Mrs. Caballero. He still had the issue of Richie to solve but likely he would get the hint since Eddie never replied and back off. It was cruel but why would Richie even want to talk to him.

He probably wants to interrogate me, Eddie thinks and he feels so tired suddenly as he pulls into the parking garage of their apartment complex. He groans, feeling his phone in his pocket but afraid to even look at it to see the time. Grabbing the groceries, he heads to the elevator with a bit of a struggle but presses the fourth floor button with the toe of his shoe, already, thinking about what he would do when he got home. First, he'd kick off his shoes and then he'd eat, then he'd clean the kitchen, then he'd maybe do a quick workout, then he'd shower, then maybe he'd check his email until the cat came to lay on his keyboard, and then he would crawl into bed beside a snoring Mayra and- he jumps when his phone starts to ring. Fishing it out of his pocket means he has to slide the handles of each bag into one hand. It hurts his shoulder and worse, the motion needed to retrieve his phone almost pulls his pants down. They manage not to fall but they now sit uncomfortably low on his narrow hips. He would need to order a new belt, he thought, maybe some smaller slacks but he'll think about that later. He answers the call, already having seen the name,

"Yes, dear?"

"Are you still at the store? I forget to ask if you could get that dairy free cookies and cream ice cream I like."

He winces, knowing a fight is to come, " I'm in the elevator."

"Oh...Shoot. You...You didn't see we were out?"

Eddie wants to argue that he doesn't even eat the stuff, unless he's having a really, really low day but instead he tries to make his voice reassuring; his anxiety makes his voice a little more stern than he wants, however, " I'll pick it up tomorrow."

"I know, I just thought, you know. I almost always ask for it. It's not the first time I've had you get it."

"I know. I'll get it tomorrow."

Mayra sighs and suddenly her voice is very curt; Eddie knows that she is upset and he can't help but feel guilty that 20 years later and he still can't get everything on a list and he still can't make the people in his life happy; he knows when he comes home she'll avoid him as best he can and he guesses it's a good thing they had gone with a more decently sized apartment, " Fine, okay. I'm going to shower. Bye."

"See you-" He clears the click and pauses as the elevator door open, wondering if it's worth it to drive back to Safeway. A moment later, he had already decided it was.

_“Oh the poor dear. She was always under his thumb, you know. He was a hard man to please but she loved him.”_

_“Since elementary, I think. And she was such a pretty girl, chubby but pretty. But you’ve seen her lately with her boy. Bless her heart, Sonia Kaspbrak’s bigger than even Suzanne who works at the petrol station on Eaton St.”_

_He knows Suzanne. She’s grey haired and perpetually sweaty but still nice. He’s seen her smoking out front more often than he’s seen her behind the register, but she calls them darlings on the off chance they ride their bikes there to get snacks. Above him, the slim woman at the library’s circulation desk sighed, “ I know. I don’t know if I’d be in better shape if my husband died like that. There was always something off about him, he-”_

_“Oh, sweetie! I didn’t see you. You wanna check that out?”_

_Eddie looked up with teary eyes, gripping the book tight as the words swirled in his head. They didn’t really come together as he raised the book up to the counter, watched as the library clerk scanned his card and his book, stamped the due date inside, and then held it out for him to take._

_“The History of...Infectious Disease? Um. Wow, you’re a smart kid. That’s a...a big kid’s book.”_

_Swallowing, Eddie quickly took the book and fled back to the table where Bill and Georgie were sitting with pop-up books piling high. Bill could barely get through one before his brother was grabbing up another, demanding to be read to. Stan had come with them too but was off looking through the National Geographics piled in the reference section, ones Eddie had once flipped through but then felt nervous when an article about flesh eating bacteria spooked him._

_“I’m heading home.”_

_Bill looked up, swatting at Georgie’s hand as he tried to tug at one of the characters sticking out of the book, “ Oh, we c-c-can leave t-too.”_

_“No, it’s okay. My mom, “ Eddie winces and tries to hide his upset, “ wants me home before it gets late. And I gotta stop by the pharmacy still.”_

_Bill winces too but nods, says he’ll tell Stan as his friend heads out. He heads to Keene’s which isn’t far but its here, waiting in line, that he starts to understand. He loves his mom. He doesn’t agree with her, just now old enough to really question the pills and check ups and the constant fussing but he does care about her. And so he feels conflicted, hearing people talk about her like this. It sounds mean. It shouldn’t matter about her weight but they made his father and his death sound so…_

_“Here for a pick up, Edward?”_

_He nods, book still under his arm as he makes his way to the front of the line. He receives three little white bags and he knows only two are his, but he’s picked up his mother’s pills before. He turns to go but is stopped by a half shout, the middle aged pharmacist waving him back._

_“Tell your mother, “ Eddie looks at one of the bags that he knows isn't his as Keene continues on, “ To read the side effects carefully. I know this is a new script and had hoped she’d be stopping in today, but I understand she’s a busy woman.”_

_The way Keene says busy doesn’t make it sound like that's what he means._

_“She should call or stop taking them if any of the serious side effects pop up, but she should be fine.”_

_Eddie thinks the last part might be for his benefit because his eyes have gone a little wide and he thinks he might be holding onto the bags tighter then before. He nodded after a moment and old man Keene waves him away, moving to ring up another customer. The ringing of a bell marks Eddie’s exit and as he walks down the street, mind set on home, it occurs to him. He adjusts the book and other two bags so that he can reach a hand into the third bag to grasp the orange pill bottle. He’s seen enough of them to know that on the side there is a list of all the problems that could be potentially caused, and while he is relieved to see that none sound too serious like death or internal bleeding...he sees clear as day the words bloating, weight gain, water retention, changes in appetite._

_His mother is sick, he thinks suddenly, has a condition just like he has asthma and other allergies. She’s being treated for something and probably her weight is a side-effect. Clearly, the ladies at the library don’t know what they were talking about and he feels angry, and guilty. He had thought about it too, had let Richie get in a joke or two about his mom’s ass looking like chewed bubblegum but- His mom loved him, though she was definitely pushy. And his mom loved his dad, who wasn’t, couldn’t have been a bad person. And really, he thought as he pushed into his house and spied his mother snacking in front of the TV, he didn’t really mind all that much the routine of fussing and doctor appointments if it was coming from a good place. And things weren't so bad...at first._

_Then, as life often does, things changed. _

_Eddie was twelve years old when his mother stopped driving, claiming that her back hadn’t been the same since she fell at the diner the week before. His mother had said over and over how embarrassed she had been, spread out on the floor with fries and a shake splatter about her. His mother had said quite frequently that she would be going back to work as soon as the pain lessened too and he had believed her for a time, had ignored the way she quickly gained more and more weight as weeks became months._

_It was hard to adjust to after all, the sudden lack of activity from waitressing, and Eddie mostly thought about how it was an inconvenience because now she was home all the time, constantly asking where he's going, reminding him about his pills, and occasionally (with growing frequency) asking if he can help her with something because, “Eddie, sweetheart, my back. You know how my back is.”_

_The guys teased him about it initially and complained when he suddenly couldn’t hang out as much. He hated it too but his mom needed him and he still wondered if she needed help when he was not at home. She hadn’t been able to keep the house as tidy now with her injury or cook or do laundry without his help. Stanley had even commented on the unusual mess of the Kaspbrak household once which had thoroughly shamed Eddie into pathetically trying to tidy it himself. He had never done his own laundry before this but he learned, and he learned other things too, sometimes with direction from his mother and sometimes to her upset when his vacuuming disrupted her shows._

_She used to wear jumpsuits when she could move around the house, until they had become far too tight. He remembered this was around the time she started calling a cab to take them to the store, the bank to cash her checks, to the doctor where she tearfully pleaded for something to help her back pain so she could care for her boy (she would gesture to him, half curled in the corner then) or the diner for takeout. She for a time wore loose dresses until they too became unwearable. This was when she stopped huffing and puffing as she went up stairs to her room, now only going to the downstairs restroom, kitchen, and her lazyboy. _

_The trips outside the house became less frequent and after one incident, he offered to offered to take over some errands. He was responsible enough and he certainly didn't miss going to the store with her, to be honest._

_"Look out, wide load coming through."_

_He turns sharply, arms shaking as he tries to balance the basket of groceries on his forearm but he can already feel a bruise appearing. He didn't expect to see anyone at the Pennysaver so late, especially on a school night but there Henry Bowers was with milk and a box of Cocoa Krispies in his arms._

_Eddie starts to turn red but of course this is the time that his mom appears, driving up on one of the disabled scooters in a bathrobe a size too small. Sneering, Sonia just drives past, headed back to the cracker aisle at an agonizing pace. The basket at the front of her scooter is already full, hence Eddie having another in his arms though that was full too. He wishes he'd grabbed a full size cart but knew that this would encourage his mom to fill it even more. As it was, they were probably not gonna be able to pay for everything. It would be humiliating putting things back at the register but Eddie had been sneakily putting some things back when his mother's back turned. He wanted to think she bought so much so that it lasted them awhile, so she wouldn't have to strain herself coming all the time but the food disappeared rapidly and he heard her complain often that they were out of this or that._

_"Eddie-bear, can you help mommy reach something?"_

_He tries to follow his mom but Henry steps in front of him. Shaking, he thought about running away but his arms were already full and aching from the food piled in his basket so he hurriedly sidesteps him, twice when the teen moves like he's going to chest bump him, and scurries after his mom._

_Henry hollered after him, " Yeah, you better run, freak! I think the floor has started to crack under your fatass mom!"_

_He turns a dark pink, ignoring the way the handles of the basket leave pink indents on his palms. No one understands he thinks, no one gets that this is his life and his mother, his mother was more than her weight. It's a relief_ _when she goes on disability, the unemployment checks being replaced by just a tiny bit bigger checks. She'd been advocating for a while but it had been a long, anxious process. __He remembers that this is when she stopped calling cabs to go to the bank or store, and more often it's something he does after school or on weekends, times he used to go to the arcade or movies with friends._

_He also remembers this is when he declined a sleepover at Bill's house and wound up with Beverly on his porch. They talked, awkward pauses included, until they both were shivering. But they talked about everything from Ben to the Winter dance to his sudden distance. Her crush had left Bill after she realized they just weren't compatible personality wise, Bill not being as thoughtful or attentive as she had thought. She described the break up as mutual and he was glad, had noticed that the two had been getting closer but then seemed to just be friends. He had also noticed the way Ben looked at her but he didn't mention it, settling for an update of all the things he missed. He was there, he told himself, he knew somethings but she provided so much context for the things he had learned from lunchtime discussions and occasional weekend hangout._

_After a quiet moment, she smiled at him prettily and he smiled back, wondering why he couldn't just be there, hear about Stanley's growth spurt and her budding romance and Bill's interest in sports firsthand. But then there was a faint creaking sound from inside as the lazyboy was adjusted and his mother clearing her throat, as she did after drinking bubbly soda. Beverly's smile dimmed when he became noticeablely distracted but she missed him, she said; they missed him, even Richie no matter how he tried to play it off and honestly he missed them too. But then he could hear his mom calling for him and he stood, brushing off his shorts nervously. He went inside, feeling suffocated but he knew no other way than how it was._

_One frightening night when he had dared to go the movies with his friends, he’d come home to vomit on the floor. He’d left her food, water, and the remote and she explained as he approached her with real fear, her front covered in stomach acid, mashed potatoes and Salisbury steak, that she’d choked. She’d choked, Eddie-bear, and no one was there to help her and she was so scared, and she didn’t know when he was coming, if he was coming, and she had only just coughed it up before she passed out._

_He’d been shaking as he went to get a mop or a towel, listening to her wail about how scared she was, about how she didn’t know where he was even though he had told her and kissed her check before he left. He cleaned the vomit, cleaned her, and wondered what he would have done if she had choked to death while he was gone. He’d come home right after the movie, deciding not to get ice cream with everyone but what if, he thought numbly as he cleaned. What if?_

_The thought leaves him feeling like he's just on the verge of an asthma attack but his inhaler only takes the feeling away for a few minutes before he works himself back up. He doesn't get much sleep and finally, after imagining his mother has called out for help for the third time, he grabs a blanket and pillow so he can curl up on the stairs out of his mother's view. He dozes, listening to the fake laughter on some rerun, wraps his arms around himself and occasionally pinches the baby fat around his stomach. He listens to her breathing and snorts of amusement and mumbled comments about the show, chewing and eventually snoring until it's time to go to school. It takes quite a bit of effort to get up, his legs almost numb but he gets up. His mom is asleep but his alarm upstairs wakes her and she hollars out,_

_"Eddie-bear, you have to get to school. Are you up?"_

_"Yes, I can hear my alarm just fine, " he snaps, tired and cranky and hungry but she doesn't hear him. Grabbing a pack of overly processed, waxy donuts, he eats them fast enough that he barely remembers what they taste like. They feel heavy in his stomach but hunger and tiredness is a recipe for intolerable Eddie, so he tries not to think about it too much, especially when the bit of sugar seems to ground his temper just a bit. He brushes his teeth and combs his hair, changes into fresh clothes and places his pajamas and the blanket he'd huddled in on the stairs in the hamper._

_"Sweetie, my pills-"_

_"I already took-" he pauses, then realizes she wasn't checking on him, but asking for her own pills. He doesn't know why it bothers him, but he guesses he hadn't noticed the change. He wasn't the sick one (well, she sometimes still nagged him but certainly not as often). She was the sick one who needed him to take care of her and it seemed like such a huge responsibility, one he selfishly noted he didn't ask for but the thought made him guilty. She didn't ask to be unhealthy. She didn't ask to hurt her back. Sighing, he went to get her pills, also getting her a glass of cold juice from the fridge. She had snacks in a small bag by her chair, quick things so that she didn't have to head to the kitchen and so he didn't worry about cooking her something. She smiled at him but it disappeared when she saw the juice; her hand went to her throat, covering the roll there._

_"Sweetheart, " she says and then her voice becomes purposely hoarse, " My throat. After I got sick yesterday, it's very sore, Eddie-dear. And the juice is too acidic. Could you get me a nice cup of coffee, with the special creamer? It will be heavenly on my throat, because it's warm."_

_He sighs and goes, pouring the juice back into the jug with limited spillage, wondering about the time as he goes to the coffee machines. It's sticky and he curses when he realizes he left the filter in from days before, leaving it to mildew inside. He wrinkles his nose and uses his thumb and index to lift the filter out, hating that the cleaning was all up to him. That everything was up to him. Rinsing and wiping out the machine, he wants to dunk it in bleach but he doesn't have time, if the time on the stove is right. Angry, he cleans it as best as he can and starts to brew the coffee, taking the creamer out as well as a mug from the drying rack. He moves some food aside from the full counter, contemplates eating another pack of donuts but reasons he's not really hungry, just wants the sugar rush so he doesn't feel so tired. Plus, he knows his mom will complain if they all go missing. Tapping his foot, he knows he's gonna be late to school and is relieved that the guys have stopped coming to his house and riding with him. He'd made them late too many times and so no one was waiting for him, no one was worried or would be surprised when he arrived to first period in a jumble. Maybe he shouldn't even go-_

_The coffee maker beeps and he quickly pours in the creamer, shoves it back in the fridge, and carries the mug to his mom. He throws in the donuts he was contemplating, lips pressed in a thin line when her eyes light up._

_"Oh, you're so sweet to me. You know I love to dunk them. " she blows on the steaming mug, taking off her glasses so they don't steam up._

_He thinks he has her eyes, definitely her dark curly hair. Swallowing thickly, she realizes the odd position of her neck is that she is awaiting a kiss on the cheek. He does it swiftly, grabbing his backpack from the floor as she finally swallows the handful of pills he'd brought her. It's easy; she doesn't choke one bit and some part of him relaxes._

_"Have a good day. Be careful coming home. Don't be late. You know I worry when you're late."_

_He know all to well and even though Stan invites him over with the guys, and Bill tries to talk to him about something, he manages to sidestep them and interrupt them to remind him about his curfew. Part of him wants to stay but this part of him feels like it's shrinking every day, because he's nervous. What if his mom is upset when he gets home because he forgot to do something or buy something. He would rather be home, fixing things, then being here worrying. And so he leaves minutes after the final bell, flies up the front porch steps and then has to take a deep breath because it's only then, with the doorknob in his hand, that he remembers how much he doesn't want to be at home, listening to his mother nag him, watching her eat and struggle to stand, and then to have to clean and cook...but he still goes inside. He deposits his backpack on the floor, starts to clean and clear off the dining table that is piled with snacks...he gets her lunch before he can do anything else, looks for messes she may have made. He checks the bathroom, flushes and then heads back to the table as his mother eats. Heaving a sigh, Eddie unloads his backpack._

_Moments later, having not even cracked open a single textbook yet but already so overwhelmed, he looks at his list again as if he thinks maybe another item will appear, like he isn’t seeing everything that remains for him to do. He can’t keep forgetting things but he is and the list is supposed to keep him on task, keep him consistent but still things niggle at the back of his mind. He was currently sat at the dining table with his legs tucked beneath him (the wooden chair pressed uncomfortably against his tailbone), having brushed off the crumbs with his hand after he went to get the mail. He had gotten used to the bills coming in, or atleast the notices, at the end of the month. Originally, he had handed them to his mom but the first time the lights got turned off, he had anxiously opened her purse where she had stuck the notices. Between the wrappers and uneaten candy, he had pulled out the unopened envelopes and her check book and he hadn’t known at first what to do._

_He had seen his mom write checks before, but he didn’t know what a good check looked like. He could ask her but then she may get upset, as she usually did when he reminded her of something. (“I am the parent here, young man! You know I’m in pain, you know I already saw the bill, Edward!”) Biting his lip until it was raw, his saving grace was a voided check that fluttered out of her wallet. His eyes zeroed in on the signature, the written amount, the date...he carefully filled out a check and went to the bank with it. The clerk didn’t understand at first why he was asking if the check was okay, or why he was trying to pay the water bill there, but she had been kind enough._

_“Your mom probably meant for you to mail that, and deposit something else, “ she said, giving him the benefit of the doubt, “ Mail it with the envelope it came with. You’ll need a stamp.”_

_He raced home to mail it, digging through his mom’s dusty room for a stamp; he never cleaned in there. He thought he might get some confirmation but the only confirmation that payment was received was the water staying on. He’d often used a list to confirm what money he had left for food or for their savings jar after utilities, which wasn’t much. Now, he kept track of the checks using the last page of the checkbook._

_Eddie’d messed up a few times, forgetting to forge his mom’s signature on the checks or write the correct amount but he had been getting the bill payments in pretty regularly, though in the back of his mind he worried he’d miss one. Checking the mail became his obsession and when his first semester grades came in...he forged his mom’s signature on the parental form too and it wasn’t even like his grades were bad. But he’d gone from an A student to a B student and if she knew..._

_His teacher had asked him to stay after class last week so they could discuss his concentration, and others had commanded that he pay attention instead of doing his work. But his list kept him preoccupied; he felt anxious the more things showed up on his list and so if he finished his homework before he got home, he could clean and cook and do everything else on his list without staying up to study or catch up. He wasn’t getting much sleep as it was, waking to the sound of his mother asking for help or if he could bring her food. And sometimes he felt so cold he couldn't concentrate. And on the off chance he finished the list, he felt so much relief and that, the sense that he had done well, was somewhat addictive._

_And usually, this was when he could make time to be a kid, calling Bill who called everyone else about going to the quarry or the library or the candy shop or even to one of their houses to watch TV or play a board game. In this case, he had until Saturday because not only did he have a project with Mike but Ritchie and Beverly and even Stanley insisted he hang out with them that day. They were going to go to the arcade and get dinner, he had been told but he was already planning on escaping before dinner._

_Sealing the last envelope, he reached for his bookbag. He needed a haircut tomorrow, he thought; his hair had grown out and was curling into his eyes, kinda like Richie’s but less shaggy fortunately. He could do it before he went to get construction paper for the project, he thought but then he needed to get to vacuuming since he’d put it off for a week. Tonight he needed to do his history readings, then the dishes and definitely take out the trash since waste management came in the morning but-_

_“Eddie-dear, did you stop by the store today? And my heart pills are low. I should have an auto refill available-”_

_He stood from the dining table, leaving his history book there as he headed to the livingroom much like a criminal to a death sentence. He hadn’t gone to the store and they had food, he knew; but his mother had specific cravings, and if he didn’t have those specific cravings on hand, he’d be in trouble._

_“They didn’t have Blue Bunny ice cream, “ he lied as he curled his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie, “ but we still have a box of ice cream sandwiches-”_

_“Where did you look? That can’t be right. That’s a popular brand. How can a store not sell Blue Bunny. Sweetie, did you check the place on Eaton? They have small Blue Bunny containers. Why don’t you go get a few of those? Oh, and you can grab some chips too.”_

_He felt defeated, nodding as he went to get the savings jar. He had been saving up for a pair of shoes but this would put him back a bit. He would have gotten a paper route or some other job but he didn’t have the time or concentration, he knew. He heard her just over the TV, listing other things she may want from the store but he knew some of them were still in the kitchen, waiting for her to eat them. She hadn’t been getting up as often these days, usually making it to the bathroom with her stained sheet around her but using him to fetch her snacks and meals instead of heading to the fridge or pantry herself because of her back and her knees. It made him so angry that he felt like he could cry or scream or just run forever, but there was nowhere to go and he couldn't show how upset he was. No one knew and his mom...his mom wanted ice cream._

_He headed to the store, trying his best to smile with chattering teeth at Suzanne as she smoked out front; she called him darling when she rang him up, asked if he was having a party but he just forced a laugh, grabbed the ice cream and ran. He kept his head down most of the way home, and when he got home, waking his mom from her loud snoring to hand her the sweets, he took in the crumbs all over the floor in front of her. If he left it, the food remnants would be smooshed into the carpet, making it harder to clean. Plus, she would track the crumbs throughout the house, he thought as the Jeopardy theme played loudly behind him._

_He thought back to the list and his history homework which could could wait, he thought, as he donned another layer of clothing and grabbed the vacuum._

_He sighs and shuts the door behind him, riding fast to school. He won't be late getting home. He'll tell the guys he's got too much homework, tell them homework is more entertaining than Richie's jokes (to the other teen's faux shock) and he'll keep doing it, he knows. Because things are different now; he's the one responsible for her pills now, afterall._


	4. Chapter 4

Eddie knows that another kind of messed up thing about him is the fact that when things are already looking bad, he somehow strives to make them worse.

When he woke up to find Mayra already gone to work and to the sound of his cat meowing for her breakfast, he didn't even think that there may be a message waiting for him on his phone. His breath catches when he reads what Richie has sent him, and to make matters worse he has a notification that someone has accepted a friend request from him. At first he thinks he accidentally sent one to Ritchie but then he sees the name and a lack of a profile picture and realizes his clumsy hands had sent a friend request to the Mike Hanlon he had found. It can't be the one that he is looking for because the location says Florida but...

He begins the intricate process of stalking his new friend now that he has access to photos and other information. To his shock he finds a single picture. It's of them as kids and Richie has one arm slung around Eddie as he stays tucked into Bev's side. The red-haired girl is throwing a peace sign as Ben looks at her with so much affection. This is a photo from before high school he realizes, and as he looks through the other photos he sees one of an older Mike in a library.

Mike is a librarian. Mike is a librarian in Florida. And now he's friends with Eddie on Facebook.

It doesn't scare him as much as talking to Richie because there are no messages from Mike. He gets the impression that the other man is waiting for him to reach out, and he can appreciate that. Having that little bit of control makes him feel safer and of all the losers, he had always felt the safest with Mike, with Bill being a close second. Taking a deep breath, he thinks about composing a message but then he sees a notification from Richie. After telling him to fuck off (Eddie feels a cold bite of anger mixed with guilt and indignation), it looks like the comedian had a change of heart and wants to talk. Somehow that is worse than being cursed at.

"Fuck," he says.

When he gets dressed and starts heading to work, he finds that his anxiety has doubled, no, tripled every couple minutes. He's a wreck so much so that he fears what will happen if he has his normal cup of coffee. He doesn't know what to do now. He shouldn't have even listened to that therapist. Honestly he shouldn't have gone and made the first appointment at all. Of course it would just make things worse because that's what happens when Eddie tries new things.

After three unsuccessful hours and one unproductive business call, Eddie makes another hasty decision and calls one of the more recently dialed numbers in his phone, one that is still unsaved. He hears a woman's voice pick up, a voice that is chipper and slightly high-pitched. He stands in front of his desk, grabbing his car keys and leaving his office all together. Eddie sees a couple interns glancing in his direction because usually once he is in his office, in his safe space, he very rarely leaves. He has a printer in his office so there is little need for him to enter the communal spaces but now he was breaking routine.

" Hi, Sheila. This is Mr. Kaspbrak. W-would I be able to schedule my follow-up?"

_Mike loved the library, Eddie knew. He loved the smell, the books, the dust. He had always been drawn to the knowledge that seemed to radiate from the place and he had thoroughly explored every part of the the library from the fiction to nonfiction, from the newspaper archives to the microfiche. And this was where they found themselves, looking through old clips and photos about the founder of Derry, and his descendants. But it was then, when Eddie accidentally flipped to a more recent roll of clips and headlines that he saw it. He doesn't know why it stands out. He reads the small blurb below with morbid curiosity and then a cold, jarring feeling of agony._

_LOCAL ACCOUNTANT JUMPS OFF OVERPASS_

_ Authorities have determined the cause of a six car pile up close to McKinley St and the entrance to I5. A pedastrian, who jumped from the overpass to the traffic below, caused the driver of a white Toyota to slam on their breaks and swerve. The driver was airlifted to Saint Beaudeux Community Hospital but is in stable condition. _

_ The victim and only fatality has been identified as local accountant and tax preparer, Frank Kaspbrak, 38. Authorities have ruled the death a suicide and expect the debris to be cleared from the roadway by Wednesday- _

_Eddie couldn't breathe._

_The image of the article began to blur and at this point they were nearly done with their project, just looking for images and interesting letters to the editor about Derry's founder to make their PowerPoint look cool. Mike and him worked well together, unlike him and Richie or him and Bev, the jokesters of their group. But he wasn't getting any oxygen and already the edge of his vision was turning black. Mike looked absorbed in an article and didn't even notice when Eddie nearly fell from his seat and began to stagger to the door. Eddie has tunnel vision as he weaves through aisles, doesn't even remember his inhaler in his fanny pack until he's passed the librarians at circulation (they knew, had known back then, hadn't they?)._

_He tripped down the front steps of the library but didn't really feel the scraping of his knees through his jeans. He could only prop himself up on his elbows as he finally, finally used his inhaler. He still rested his face on his arms, taking in wheezing breaths as the world spun. He managed another dose and sat up alittle more and that's when he felt hands on him._

_"-up you go, man. Hey, look at me. Focus on me."_

_He looks up at Mike, lights blinking before his eyes as he pants noisily. A warm hand covers his and it's surprisingly stabilizing as the medicine (placebo) worked. He is guided to take another dose and finally when his lungs aren't burning and he can see, he moves to a complete sitting position. Mike is on the ground with him and when he looks at his face, he sees sympathy._

_Eddie isn't surprised._

_Mike had to have passed by Eddie's station to get to the door. He likely was curious as to why his friend left, wanted to see what he had been working on so it's expected that he looked at the screen and the article that glared back._

_Squeezing his hand, Mike looks him in the eye as he says softly, " Listen to me. I know what you're feeling. I get it. You know how my parents were, how things ended for them."_

_Eddie feels his eyes fill with tears._

_" You are not him. You are not at fault. It's okay to have good memories of him, to miss him, and also...to be angry with him."_

_Eddie hugs him suddenly, squeezes Mike tight who returns the embrace just as much. He doesn't know what he's feeling; he's angry and he's heartbroken but... Something feels shattered in Eddie's chest and it's almost like if he squeezes hard enough it will be pushed back into place. But that's not how it works. And he realizes Mike, always calm and wise Mike, has probably felt this way for a long time with no one to relate to. His parents had died in a fire, a result of their careless behavior and substance abuse; Mike had known why he was an orphan and why he had burn scars on his back and legs. But Eddie was just learning that his father hadn't been sick, that his father hadn't been a good man as he had always been told. His father had hurt people, had killed himself and left him and his mother...left him with his mother and- Eddie feels like he may hyperventilate again but Mike is still holding on to him, grounding him. As he continues to just breathe, it occurs to Eddie that he's been pretty selfish selfish, realizing the source of his friend's wisdom. Mike hadn't had it easy, being raised by his grandpa and uncle who weren't the cuddling type for sure. Mike had always been steady and strong and Eddie wondered how much of that strength was from having to pick himself up, because no one else was there. Eddie had never comforted Mike, or anyone really except his mother...he had never really thought how much Mike might hurt, knowing his parent's fates._

_Their gang of misfits all had issues, Eddie knew. Bev with her dad, Bill with his parents who had become distant after Georgie had been hit by a car, Richie with his parents who fought all the time and made him choose sides, Ben with his aunt who tried so hard to be a parent to him but didn't know how, Stan who had so many expectations on him, Mike with his parents death. It made his problems seem so normal, and manageable. This was just...Eddie's life and did he really have to fall apart at every turn? He sniffled shamefully as he finally said,_

_"Thanks, Mike."_

_"Anytime you wanna talk, I'll listen, Eddie."_

_Eddie leans into his shoulder but then catches himself, stopping the needy behavior, " S-same. Mike, jeez man-"_

_"I know, " the other teen says, and Eddie knows he does._

_As they stand, Mike keeps an arm around him and this is how he thinks it feels to have a protective older brother. They head back into the library to grab their things, speaking softly about presenting tomorrow. Eddie is gonna miss hanging out but he knew already his mom was waiting for him to come home. Mike clears the article from the screen, leaving the microfiche and guiding Eddie past the circulation desk. The shorter teen has started to shake again, as if the sight of the computer has made him rediscover the pain and confusion that he had managed to push down after his earlier panic. And that is kinda what it felt like, like Eddie was fine one minute and then his breathing would start to shorten in the next, prompting Mike to nudge or tug him along, pulling him back to reality._

_" I think it's warm enough to go to the quarry this weekend."_

_Eddie wrinkles his nose, " You guys always say that and then nearly get hypothermia."_

_Mike grins and moments later they stop outside the apartment complex he lives in with his grandfather and uncle," That's part of the fun, seeing who can stay in the longest."_

_Eddie rolls his eyes and almost hesitates to leave but bowing his head, he thanks Mike with a gentle shove. He turns toward home, dread settling in his gut as Mike calls out that they'd see each other in class the next day, and to get a good night's sleep if possible. He doubts he will but he's not nearly as worried about the presentation as he is about his mom. She hated when he left the house but she had to understand, had to realize that school was important and it wasn't like Mike could study at his house. God, he wished she wasn't so controlling. He couldn't exactly tell her so but... Wincing, he banished the painful thought as soon as it came but he wondered in the back of his mind later that night if his father, so stern but also so dim of a memory... Why would he do something like this? Why would he leave them? What had made him so...so depressed or sad? He had been told his father had been sick and he understood mental illness was a thing, and maybe his mom wanted to protect him from the truth. His eyes filled with tears and thinking of his mother, how she used to be...would things have been different if his father had lived? What would he think of his wife now? Of his son who tried so hard but always, always forgot something on his to do list?_

_He doesn't sleep that night but he aces the presentation with Mike. It’s a relief but without a reason to hang out, he finds himself slowly pulling away. He was grateful to Mike so it wasn't like he wanted to avoid him but also, in a way, the gentle teen was a reminder of what he now knew. On top of this, his mother seems to need him twice as much, maybe making up for the time lost when he was working on the project. He's snappish because of it, and a few times she's even started arguing with his mother. _

_It's just behind his teeth, making his tongue it but he can't bring himself to share the anger and hurt he feels. He can't reveal to her that he knows that truth of what happened, but eventually he ends up exhausting himself. He fights with her, refuses to go to the store for dark chocolate covered cherries or salty chips, and she cries and ask him what is wrong. She calls for him, asks him to watch TV with her and even yells, demands he come downstairs because she is still his mother and he is still her child, despite her sickness and his age. It just drives him to shut his bedroom door and shove his pillow over his face. This is how he falls asleep and for the first time in a long time...she doesn't wake him up in the night. When he wakes up the next day and tip toes downstairs, he sees a mess in front of her chair and in the kitchen from her heaving herself up and going to prepare her own meal. He starts to tidy automatically but saves the noisy vacuuming until she has woken up and headed to the bathroom. They're both quiet but when he finally has her breakfast ready, he sits down on the couch. _

_She turns on the news and eats, and he watches the tv, not even blinking as it moves to commercials. When she's finished, he takes her plate and listens to her rustle in her bag of pills and he feels so...tired. He wants to ask her, wants to demand some explanation from her but... _

_"I love you, sweetheart. I know it's not easy being here with me, " her voice cracks, " I know you hate me." _

_"I don't hate you. I don't." _

_She sniffles, " You don't have to lie. I know I'm a terrible mother. A-and I know it's hard but I'll try not to bother you so much. I know you have to worry about school and me, and I don't want to overwhelm you. You have so much to think about. You're...you're so much like your father-" _

_"Don't-" _ _His voices cracks._

_ “I can understand why you want to run away and leave me!"  _

_ Eddie startles at the sudden turn as her tone becomes a hiss, "Huh? I never said that!"  _

_ "Remember before you left me. You just left me here, Edward! Your own mother! And I choked! Is that what you want? Do you want me dead? To choke again?" _

_ Anything he wanted to say died on his tongue as she continued to sob, repeating herself and asking God how her sweet child could come to hate his sick mother so, repeating how she loved him so much and that she knew she was a burden but couldn't help it. She just wanted him to understand that she was sick and that she knew that if she went to a nursing home, Eddie would go to a group home. It startled him every time she talked about this, the idea of him losing everything; his home, his mother, all his knick-knacks...maybe even his friends if the group home was outside of Derry, and somehow it had never crossed his mind before. What would he do if his mother was taken out of the home? It made him feel nauseous because his mother often complained about state run facilities and the foster care system. And he'd seen enough crime shows to know about the abuse that he might endure in someone else's care. When his mother was still mobile she'd tell him stories and the rumors she heard at the diner, about the physical, mental and sexual abuse endured by children whose parents didn't love them like Sonia loved Eddie. And now, it scared him. Is that where he would go? He was nearly fifteen, still too far from being a legal adult. Maybe he could call his aunt, or grandmother in NY. Maybe...maybe one of his friends would-  _

_ "I'm sick, Eddie, love. But I'll try. I'll try not to ask you for any help."  _

_ "I'm sorry, mom, I just-" Eddie was crying by now, scared of how things might change. She continued to promise not to ask him for anything, no longer crying, just repeating herself as Eddie sniffled and tried to take it back. He promised that he wouldn't go out with his friends again and that he'd respect curfew. He promised that he'd get her prescriptions and daily pills, and that he'd do better stocking up on groceries. As he listed all that he would change, she leaned back in her chair with some smugness, the chair groaning under her weight but he was afraid and nearly anxious to the point of nausea. She tried to soothe him then, opening her arms and beckoning him for a hug.  _

_ "I know, I understand that you got upset. I love you, Eddie-bear. I forgive you. We'll both do better, okay?"  _

_ After hugging her, he wiped his eyes. He got her dinner, and made a note that he needed to make an appointment for his mother to see her doctor on Friday. He had already made plans to miss school and call a cab for them because this meant that he had to get everything sorted beforehand such as getting his mother clean and dressed, getting her something to wear. It was a lot of stress, as it always was when she had to leave the house but he could handle it. He may not like his life but the alternative was worse, and really, what teen didn't dislike his life? Maybe he was being ungrateful because it wasn't like his mom beat him or did drugs or anything. His mom was sick and he guessed he really needed to stop being so selfish. Afterall, if he was maybe a little more organized, maybe things wouldn't seem so hard. It would definitely be hard to avoid hanging with his friends but...  _

_ Exhausted, he started to get ready for school. He would handle it after school, he thought, running thin hands through his hair. He just had to get through today and then he would come up with a plan for Friday and for getting organized. It wouldn't be like in the dream. He wouldn't be going to a group home., he wouldn't- He suddenly is vomiting across his bedroom floor. It's water and bile only but his guts continue trying to bring up more. After moments, his stomach finally settled after he told himself this over and over that he was overreacting, trying to quell his anxiety as he started to clean the cooling pool of vomit. Deep breaths didn't really work but it kept a panic attack at bay and right now all he needed was time. He just needed a little time to think this through and just take things a step at a time. First, clean up his mess. Then, shower and get dressed. Then- his mother's voice called him from downstairs. He hurried to help her.  _


	5. Chapter 5

"Welcome back, Mr. Kaspbrak."

He tries to smile but cannot bring himself to offer a greeting. After a pause in which both of them just look at each other, his therapist finally adjusts herself in her chair and leans back. He thinks it's to encourage him to relax because clearly she is relaxed being in the room with him. Eddie tries to mirror her posture but he just can't do it, not when there is an itch beneath his skin that demands he stand up and pace and move anxiously. This would be the first time he had ever come back for a second appointment but it was his own fault after all. He had followed her advice and gotten himself into a mess.

Even after three days of fixating he had not responded to Richie. Another message had come in this morning, after which he had been frantic to book an appointment. He was just glad today had already been set aside for projects instead of meetings at work. As a salaried employee he could come and go as he pleased as long as he got the work done and he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate until he got this all resolved. He wished he could go back and punch himself in the face to prevent him from sending that message. That wasn't possible of course. He also wished he had the guts to not respond or be upset by Richie's justified anger. But that wasn't possible either.

**The Richie Toz**

_Oh is that how it's gonna be. U say hi and blow me off. Fuck you man. _

_....._ _Look. Can we plz just talk?_

" I reached out to an old friend, " he gulps, " In Derry."

"That sounds wonderful. How did it go? I'm glad you were able to remember another name. Or was it the other one, the Michael you remembered first. "

He bites his lip, " I, well. A different friend. He wanted to talk, but we ended up...not."

" I see, " she is giving him a very blank look and he knows that she is trying hard to not react; he knows he's not behaving rationally but there is so much that he doesn't know. The last time he had really spoken to Richie things hadn't been good and so he didn't really know how to act around him, " Mr. Kaspbrak, let's talk alittle bit about how you're feeling. It's okay to be anxious. It has been a long time since you connected with this chapter of your life. Would you feel comfortable just telling me what came to mind when they replied?"

" Dread."

"Let's unpack that a little. You felt like you didn't want to talk to him? Like you were dreading the interaction?"

"No, I want to talk to him. I just...I know he's gonna bring up some stuff that I'm not ready to think about."

She nods, " Things that have to do with...?"

"My mom."

Eddie feels like he might throw up. It's been years since his anxiety has made him sick, but once more he feels like that nervous teenager who would wake from nightmares to spew across his bedroom or the nervous college student who had carried around a toothbrush and mouth wash because panic attacks would find him so often between classes. It was pathetic how long it took him to realize his asthma attacks were actually anxiety. 

"Are you alright?"

His hands clasp together and his lips tremble. No, no he's not. 

" Deep breaths, Mr. Kaspbrak. Can I call you Edward? Is...is it alright if I come closer?"

He nods minutely, knowing that a full-scale nod will start him heaving. She approached slowly after that like one would approach a frightened child; her eyes are full of pity and her voice is soft, and low. He notices her fingers are thin and long, and she smells like flowers; she's nothing like his mother or even Myra, but it's not just the appearance but also the fact that she doesn't force him to accept her touch or comfort. She listens and waits, offering only an occasional suggestion.

" Let's take another deep breath, okay?"

After a moment, he does and holds it in his lungs without being told. The therapist watches, nodding her approval as he lets the breath out, "In one more time? You're doing great."

He listens and it feels like forever until he is in some kind of state of exhausted calm. They haven't made any headway on the issue of talking to Richie but, it almost felt good to reach that peak of intense emotion because now he wasn't as wound up; the bubble had burst and now he just had to deal with the fall out although eventually he would wind himself up again. When it came to anxiety he had a second wind like nobody's business.

"I want to talk to him."

She hums, " Okay. Let's work on a message back."

Eddie takes out his phone with clumsy hands, pulling up the Facebook application and scrolling to the only active conversation. His jumbled mind clicks on the wrong application a few times before he finally gets it. He stares at the time stamp from the comedian's last message to him. It had been three hours since then and there was a time difference between New York and Los Angeles to consider. Thumbs trembling, he looks at his therapist, at a loss for what to say. What was he even doing? Why was he sitting here on some professional's couch, and why was he trying to dig up things from the past by talking to a friend he was completely responsible for pushing away?

" How about you make an appointment with him?"

Eddie doesn't respond to that.

" You have work after our session, I assume. What time do you usually head home?"

" 9 or sometimes 10pm."

" I see, " she says gently; she probably knows he is trying to stop and give her excuses, " Maybe you can schedule something tomorrow during a break or lunch hour. Try suggesting some times. Let him know you aren't ignoring him per say-"

But I am, Eddie thinks, his thumbs still hovering over his phone's keyboard; he has been stalling for so long that his screen has gone dark.

" How about 1pm tomorrow?"

"Staff meeting. I could...do early. But he probably won't want that. He was never a morning person when I knew him."

She nods, " Maybe you can set aside sometime in the evening. How about 5pm tomorrow?"

The time works because usually around this time he takes a break and busies himself by making some coffee to combat the slump that hits him around this time. The majority of the other employees excluding a few managers leave at this time as well so he will have ample privacy. And the more he thinks about it the fact, that he will have control over the interaction, that he will be safely tucked in his office and he can make it seem almost like a business call... He can hang up at anytime, he realizes. His therapist seemed to notice he needed so many aspects of control and also that push to even compose a reply. She hadn't suggested once that he not answer and he suspected that she wouldn't suggest it, even if he had said he was dreading the interaction.

And somehow feeling courageous, and not taking her ultimatum to heart, he began to type. Thumbs move slowly but he didn't hesitate to press send, though a bolt of anxiety raced through him when he saw the message go through. Who knew if Richie was still mad about being ignored and also what would he do if the other man reacted badly to the idea after talking to him. What if he wasn't available at 5 p.m. and they discontinued back and forth with incompatible schedules?

_ **Edward J. Kaspbrak** _

_Yes. Are you available tomorrow at 5:30pm EST?_

_ **The Richie Toz** _

_I can move some things around_

_C u then_

Eddie drops his phone, cursing as he reaches down to grab it. And grabbing the screen he accidentally hits some keys and when he looks at the messaging application he sees he had replied to Richie. His head spins with anxiety even though it's minor and you really shouldn't be that upset but he is. his hands feel clammy and he wonders if somehow he can delete the message but then his friend is already replying; it's no surprise that the other man essentially lives on social media given he's a social butterfly.

_ **Edward J. Kaspbrak** _

_Gjhk_

_ **The Richie Toz** _

_Whats that East coast slang or r u having a stroke_

_Or ur just so excited to talk you keyboard smashed_

_ **Edward J. Kaspbrak** _

_See you tomorrow._

_ **The Richie Toz** _

_No explanation??_

_Aight keep ur secrets its def what ur good at_

That feels like a blow despite it being true and for a moment Eddie contemplates sending back another "see you tomorrow" but doesn't feel like being passive aggressive at the moment. He turns off his phone after closing the app and pockets it again, looking at the time and then looking at his therapist. They didn't have much of the session left and really he had accomplished what he wanted to do, even if now he was going to fixate on tomorrow's meeting until he was a mess of nerves.

" Mr. Kaspbrak. I'm very proud of you for reaching out. I think this is a very good step forward for you. "

He nods, " I'll stop by the next desk when I leave."

Mrs. Caballero smiles though Eddie can't manage to return it. Maybe if he survives tomorrow he'll feel like smiling at their next appointment. Walking to the parking lot, he feels lighter. Getting into his car, he feels what might be the stirrings of misguided hope...and then he feels his phone vibrating and he pulls it out of his pocket.

Eddie doesn’t know how to explain the emotions flaring in his gut like razor blades or rattling in his bones like pebbles. He didn’t want this anymore. He didn’t know why he had ever wanted it, but seeing the Florida area code pop on his phone made it clear that he had made a mistake. In his head it felt wrong talking to Richie first, and if he was entirely honest he was more worried about Richie’s reaction than anyone else’s for some reason. So it was supposed to be a test. If he survived this, then, he wouldn’t have to delete his Facebook and block the comedian. He told himself that Mike was safe. Mike, if he hadn’t changed, was kind and didn’t hold grudges. But then again-

He hit redial as soon as he saw the missed call screen. Tapping the speaker button, he slowed down a bit before a loud honk behind reminded him that he was driving. That wasn’t good. He should have waited to call back-

“Eddie?”

He coughs, his lungs filling with air, “ Holy shit.”

“You’re telling me. How have you been? You’re still in New York, right? That’s where you said you were moving. Jeez, that was a million years ago.”

Eddie is gripping the phone so tight that he thinks it might break. Why are his eyes so blurry, he wonders. Why does the sound of Mike’s voice, deeper and raspier with age but also so very Mike Hanlon make him feel like he’s drowning. He thought of so many moments that he could have used someone to talk to, someone who would sound not the least bit pissed off when they got a mysterious message on social media with nothing but a phone number. He sounded happy to hear from him and it just wasn’t fair, how sincere the other man was.

“Fuck, man. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry. I should have asked for an address or the number for your aunt’s place. I could have sent you a postcard atleast.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t...didn’t think either. I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone after”

“Yeah, “ Mike says gently, and he hears the faint sounds of a television disappear, “ I get that. When my grandpa died I moved to Florida for my master’s degree. My uncle is still in Derry, so he keeps me up to date on stuff. The losers all left, you know. Scattered to the wind. I might have been the last to leave, actually.”

“Do you, “ Eddie clears his throat, “ You still talk to them?”

“I do. Not everyday but me and Ben never lost touch. And every once and a while I get some meme from Richie. You know Bev and Ben got married?”

Eddie’s eyebrows are at his hairline. He hadn’t thought of Ben in, well…

_The first time he went to buy his own clothes, two $20 gripped in his sweaty hands, he had an asthma attack in the fitting room. He was certainly embarrassed that most things were out of his price range, a jacket being $20 by itself but he realized that as he tried clearance items, how tight a shirt he picked was. _

_It pulled across his shoulders, dug into his arms but was a tad loose in the waist despite the hem ending above his belt. On the hanger it looked to be his size, a boys size 12 (he had been nervous and confused while browsing so he’d browsed mens and boys. Mens proved too big and he had been a bit lost since he hadn’t been shopping for clothes before, atleast without his mom dictating what he could wear. She never seemed to have a problem determining his size (maybe the sizes were supposed to match age?) but he’d had an unexpected growth spurt._

_He wasn’t tall by any means, still the shortest of the group, but the tightness of his current clothes, which reminded him of how tight his mother’s clothes were, finally became too much to ignore when Richie so very politely asked him if he was preparing for a flood. He had sneered that he didn’t need fashion advice from a guy who wore Hawaiian shirts but his heart had begun pounding in his chest, racing until he got home and counted the savings jar he had in the kitchen._

_He’d fed his mom (she had been upset when he told her they were out of juice but she had settled for some soda with ice), finished some more laundry (he’d missed school on Monday because he had stayed up cleaning the living room and hadn’t had time to do laundry for himself) and finally asked if he could go to the mall._

_“Eddie, sweetie-heart, “ he saw the way his mother’s eyes squinted with disapproval, a third chin forming as she frowned, “ You can’t be going out on school nights. You know you have homework-”_

_He didn’t have homework from what he remembered (he’d have to check his list because lately he’d been forgetful so he had started making a list every day) but he knew she wouldn’t be happy about him leaving regardless. Sometimes she seemed to dislike him going to school but he wasn't going to be long, he told her. They continued to argue for some time, and he promised her maybe four times that he was going straight to the boy's section, and would not be hanging out with anyone. He didn’t ask his friends to go shopping with him for this reason, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go in and out with them fooling around but, it would have been better, he realized when he entered the store. They could have helped him find his size and maybe he wouldn’t be struggling to breathe but he was too proud, too stubborn._

_His breath got caught in his lungs again despite using his inhaler twice already. He was too big for the clothes. So was his mom he thought dizzily because the other day she had asked for a sheet. He had given his mother a bedsheet to wear because she couldn’t, her clothes wouldn’t-_

_The curtain was pulled aside and to Eddie’s shock, Ben’s gentle eyes looked at him with concern. Eddie continued to wheeze as he tried to push past but suddenly Ben was closing the curtain and placing a warm hand on his shoulder._

_“Just sit down and breathe.”_

_Eddie nearly falls on the bench in the fitting room in his rush, sits atop the pile of clothes he’d grabbed. He’s in the same jeans he wore today that show his ankles and the too tight size 14 shirt and Ben is looking at him worriedly, a handful of clothes in his hands as well. He isn’t anywhere near his mother’s size but Eddie starts to worry that maybe he’s gotten heavy like Ben (there's nothing wrong with Ben, he knows, but he and Ben are not the same). Maybe he's heavy and didn’t realize, and then he would just keep gaining and gaining. And then someone would have to spend their life taking care of him because he couldn't get this under control-_

_A third hit from his inhaler finally gets him back to taking in real breaths. Ben rubs his back, so calm but clearly worried._

_“Benjamin, did they fit? I can go back to the huskie section-”_

_Ben winces at the sound of his aunt’s voice, “ Um, still getting dressed!”_

_Eddie continues to look at his sneakers; he cleaned them with bleach but they were wearing down, plus they pinched his toes. As Ben took his hand away, he finally got the courage to stand and change into his own shirt rapidly. Ben is respectful and looks away as he start to collect his things, stuttering out a thank you reminiscent of Bill._

_“No worries. You’re okay?”_

_“Y-yeah, they don’t really clean these rooms, freaking dusty in here, “ he says quickly, pulling the curtain aside. He can feel Ben watching him but he doesn’t turn around, heading back to the boy’s section. He doesn’t know if he should try a different store or...he sees Ben’s aunt, a chubby blonde with the same gentle eyes, she browses the men’s denim. He hadn’t looked at pants yet and seeing the 36s in her hand...he moves to the end of the row and watches her hold the pants to her own waist. He does the same and understands, moves to 34s then 32s then 26s which are the smallest size. They’re not clearance but he just needs to know the fit, he thinks as he goes to clearance then back to the fitting rooms with shaking hands._

_They work but he tries to find a cheaper pair, finally settling on two pairs of 26s that are half the price. He goes back to the boy’s shirts and holds up a size 16 shirt and he tries it. It’s a pale pink but he likes it, gets a green one and a black one with some brand name he doesn’t know on it too. He doesn’t like the clothes touching his skin, wants them baggy in case he...gets bigger. He can’t afford shoes but its fine, everything is fine, he thinks when he gets home. He hands his mother the smallest bag of cotton candy they had and she accepts the kiss on her check as he goes to the dining table to work on his to do list. As an afterthought, he puts $1.22 in the savings jar. He's hoping that in a month or so he'll get a birthday card from his aunt and grandmother in NY, who he can't quite remember the faces of but imagines nearly doubles of his mother, maybe with more grey hair._

_Ben doesn’t mention anything the next day at school, and Richie doesn’t comment on the pink shirt he wears. Instead, his loudmouth friend makes a fuss about him refusing a yogurt from him, and a banana from Bill. He explained he didn't like bananas which was a half truth; they certainly weren't his favorite fruit or anything. But he easily declined the yogurt, strawberry flavor if he remembers correctly, because of the lactose. Richie calls bullshit, no matter how heated Eddie becomes because he was lactose intolerant, and no, he didn't want to eat anything at lunch. He'd had a large breakfast and finally, to stop the back and forth Bill tells Richie he'll eat the yogurt and then they start talking about sports. Tryouts are coming up, which Eddie doesn't give two shits about so he ducks his head and makes his lists until lunch is over. The day is a blur after that and then he's back, standing in a dimly lit living room helping his mom. When it's time for bed and he's so very tired, but he still has to fold the laundry...he swears to himself then and there. He would never let what happened to his mother happen to him. He would never let himself become big, and unhealthy, or more importantly he would never burden someone with his care like that. He'd rather die._

_But, he thought as his mother called out to him for him to sleep well, he would continue to do everything that needed to be done. He had to. This was his life and his responsibility and maybe, maybe things would change. Maybe a doctor would switch her medication and things would go back to how they were. Maybe she would finally find a way for him to manage her pain and maybe be able to do things for herself. Maybe Eddie...he doesn't know what he would do if things became like that, he realized. He wanted it so much but couldn't even imagine it. It seemed stupid. Eyes burning and a lump in his throat, he continued to fold, unfolding and folding again just so everything was exactly uniform, even if he was the only one who would see the upstairs linens. It gave him some kind of peace of mind, he thought, going to bed at 3am, knowing he'd be exhausted when his 6:30am alarm woke him up._

  
  
  


“You still there? I knew I should have switched networks.”

Eddie opens his eyes, “I’m here. I just...how about Bill or Stan?”

Mike chuckles, “ Stan the Man lives in Argentina. Or is it Bolivia? Somewhere other there. He’s some kinda anthropologist, conservationist, and non-profit operator, I think. He’s all over the place but I see his social media posts. He’s doing well, married to a beautiful Jewish woman who also likes bird watching.”

“That’s great. He was going through a rough patch when I knew him.”

The other man pauses like he wants to add something but changes his mind, “ Bill is off in Hollywood. You probably knew that. Richie’s over in LA too so I guess they keep an eye on each other. Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t reach out to Ben first. He’s in New York plenty, what with Bev being in the fashion industry. She’s a designer, if you didn’t know.”

“We probably just run in different circles, “ Eddie says guiltily.

“I guess. And you probably saw my profile. I basically live and breathe library. I have a dog, and an ex-wife, but I atleast got to keep the house. But what about you? Wife, kids, dog?”

“Married, no kids. One cat. I’m a risk analyst for a fortune 500 company.”

He hears a whistle, “ Wow, I’m glad. It sounds like you’re doing good.”

“I am. I mean, you too. I never thought you’d end up a librarian but I guess I should have. All I remember from highschool was that you were an A+ student and, uh, weren’t you President of the Literature and Poetry club? And a thespian Junior year. Kinda a jock, but that was because of Bill- You know, I would have put money on you becoming a writer instead of Bill.”

“Ha, maybe once upon a time. I write a little but no big horror novel turned movie. I had forgotten about that, the LP Club. It only ran one year-”

“I know. I tried to go to meetings for a while, “ Eddie says, unable to finish the thought.

“Yeah, but you were already...going through your own rough patch, “ Mike almost sounds sad before he says, “ You missed a wild Senior year, you know. We tried to look for Kasprak in the phonebook but I guess your aunt is unlisted. And it wasn’t like social media was all that big in the dark ages.”

Eddie huffs but doesn’t speak.

“I hadn’t thought to look in a few years, see if you popped but...Eddie, I’m really glad you reached out to me. I don’t know what made you think of me but it feels like I got something back, something that was missing. When we all went our separate ways, it felt like something just...fell apart. “

Swallowing, Eddie tries to find the words but he can’t. He tries to imagine being in a room with all seven of them again. Bev with her short red hair and sly smile, Ben with his round face but kind eyes, Bill with his hair gelled as he strutted around in a letterman jacket, Stan in his button up sighing because he was at the end of his patience with them, Mike with his grin and undercut afro as he talked about Shakespeare and Tolstoy, Richie with his obnoxious tee shirts and thick glasses...He could only imagine them young, as they were in highschool, as if time had stood still while he was in New York.

“I think we could actually get a Loser reunion together now. What do you say?”

“I…”

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like-

Suddenly, he hears the crunch of the front of his car colliding with the truck in front of him.


	6. Chapter 6

They tow the car and he calls Myra almost immediately to let her know. His plan was to go back to work but she had begun screeching, then crying that he needed to see a doctor. He didn't think it was that bad but maybe she mistook his dazed look for something serious. And so they wound up in the ER, with him slumped in a chair trying not to let the bright fluorescent lights bother him (his vision was a little sensitive for some reason). His wife was still in her work uniform as she clutched her designer purse that he had bought her for her birthday, no doubt having all of his information ready to go once the nurse called them.

"What happened?" She asked for the fifth time.

"I got a call and when I answered it I didn't put my foot on the brake in time."

"Edward, you know better, " she hissed, " Now we don't have a car and no doubt they're going to sue. You should have thought about this. Do I have to think of everything in this relationship? It's like being married to a child-”

“Mayra-”

“What are we going to do about groceries tonight? And how are you going to get to work? You hate public transit and it's not like you can carpool with a co-worker like I do."

"I'll get a rental, " he keeps his eyes closed against the light, " Will you please stop yelling? We're in public."

"You always do this, " she hisses, "You do something wrong that you don't take responsibility for and then when I get upset you try to make me feel like I'm the bad guy."

"You're not the bad guy. I just don't want to fight right now."

Mayra's voice raises, " See, this is exactly what I mean. You wreck the car, make me leave work early, make me take you to the damn ER, and when I try to talk to you about it you act like this-"

" Act like what? "

His wife sputters and as she ducks her neck indignantly, he notes it accentuates her double chin, " Like I'm not allowed to be angry. Like you hate me. We could be sued, Edward, and then what are we going to do? All because you were too impatient to wait to answer a call from work-"

"Let's just get a cab home," he says suddenly and tries to stand.

" Edward, don't you start-"

"I don't want to argue, mom, I don't…" his ears feel like they are full of cotton and he must still have his eyes closed because his vision is dark. He can hear some distant voices and the sound of a chair squealing across the linoleum floor but it all seemed so far away. It feels like he's gone from upright to horizontal in the blink of an eye, but it doesn't really matter. Hands are touching him and it all seems so familiar. 

Hypoglycemic. The word comes unbidden but he doesn't know why.

  
  
  
  


_"Are you still mad at me, dear? About your friends?"_

_Eddie freezes, not even daring to look up from where he is tying his mother's shoes. The taxi will be here soon and not for the first time he wishes they hadn't sold the car several years ago. It might not have lasted (he remembers the sputters and knocks, the dent in the front panel near the wheel) but maybe like Bill he could be getting his learner's permit. Scary as it was, it would spare them the shame of trying to get her in the back seat, trying to fit her travel wheelchair into the trunk, of the yellow sedan, and then they could be spared the looks the driver gave Eddie as he defensively told him the address of the doctor's office._

_For such a small town with only one taxi company, you'd think the driver would be the same one each time._

_"I understand if you hate me, " she says softly._

_When he's done tying the laces, he stands up and she pets his cheek, causing a lump to form in his throat. He wants to yell, he wants to tell her that of course he hates her for all the things she puts him through every time she calls him for help. He wants to tell her that he hates her for banning his friends and making a mess and lying to him about his father dying of cancer and for every worry he has now about food and diet and weight._

_He thinks that she deserves it, his hatred and so much more. She deserves to be left alone in this rotting house by herself. And he certainly thought about it, going away for college or just running away and never returning to her nagging and cries for help. But there is a certain awareness in her eyes, something he hasn't seen in a long time. It was the type of awareness that he recalled from when he got his bike. His mom had said no a zillion times, because they were dangerous and he could fall or be hit by a car or worse...but then, when he'd gone off to his room to cry... She came in slowly, sat on the end of his bed and patted his seven year old back until he was sniffling only._

_" Do you really need a bike, Edward? I can drive you anywhere you like. I can go with you like we do to Mr. Keane's."_

_Eddie had looked up with red eyes, and she had held a tissue to his nose so he could blow. She dabbed his eyes with another tissue and then held out hand sanitizer to him so he could clean his hands. She was listening to him; he could tell but he didn't know how to proceed. She didn't usually listen. She nagged and fussed and ignored his complaints but right now, she was looking at him._

_She saw him._

_" But bikes are faster, " he said quietly, " A-and I'm the only one who doesn't have one. Billy has one, Richie has one, even Georgie has a trike. I just want to keep up with them, mommy. I'll be careful, I swear-"_

_" Oh, Eddie...I just...goodness. Do you swear you'll wear a helmet? And elbow pads, and kneepads, and you'll need reflectors when it gets dark early in winter-"_

_He had lunged and hugged her then, his heart nearly bursting with joy. She had been hyper protective the first couple months after he got the bike, and as promised he wore every piece of safety gear they could buy and she always inspected his knees and hands for scrapes when he came home. She had added a pill to his daily meds as well because his joints were under strain from the cycling she said. But he knew it was because she cared and even though his heart was full of anger and hurt now, he thought maybe he still saw pieces of the woman who used to care for him._

_Leaving his thoughts of the past, his vision was blurry with tears as he leaned forward and did his best to wrap his arms around his mother. Her hair was still wet from the bath he had helped her with. He had managed to find a poncho like garment and stretchy leggings at the consignment store even if it had smelled horribly like mothballs at first. Her sagging arms peaked out but she didn't complain, just asked for her shoes and her socks and her glasses. She smelled like baby powder and shampoo but already there was a fine sheen of sweat on her face from the exertion of getting ready._

_Her hands came to pat his back as he sobbed into her shoulder._

_" I w-want-" he cried, sounding like Bill in his hysteria, "You to get bet-t-ter-"_

_"Oh, Eddie-bear..."_

_And it was the truth. He didn't hate her, couldn't hate his own mother. But he hated the things she did and said and he was just so tired and angry-_

_He heard a honk outside and pulled away, rubbing at his face furiously with trembling hands. He mumbled something about her purse and then saw it clutched in her hands. She smiled at him sadly, silent but she hadn't shed a single tear it seemed. Turning his gaze to the floor, he held out his hands so she could grip his forearms. Her touch was hot on his clammy skin and he had to rock back on his heels while pulling to get her to lift even an inch out of her chair. She let out a grunt and suddenly asked him to stop._

_" My back, sweetie. Don't pull me so hard."_

_He gives her a moment and then they try again, and finally with a whimper she is up. She changes her grip to the handles of her wheelchair. She uses it to get to the front door but Eddie has to fold it a little to get it through. His mother waits in the doorway, watches him lug the wheelchair down their stairs. He goes back up to help her down the three steps. The taxi is still waiting at the curb, the driver staying inside and not offering to help in the least; good, Eddie thinks with gritted teeth, though the wheelchair seems heavier then before and he feels dizzy after he closes the trunk. He waits for the spots to leave his vision before getting in the cab._

_" Did you have the day off today, sweetie? A school holiday? " Sonia asks from the back seat._

_He nods even though he thinks they both know it's not possible; but he'll think about his unexcused absences later and pulls a wad of bills out of his pocket instead; the cabbie avoids eye contact as he counts out the cost. It's usually $30, no more than $40, and only once $25 when one cabbie (grandfatherly, soft voice) undercharged._

_" Henderson Family Practice up on Cherokee. You know it, right? 56 Ch-"_

_"Got it," Shifting out of park, the cab driver speaks or moreso grumbles around his greying beard._

_Eddie scowls and looks back at his mother, " We'll get your prescription after, okay? Are you okay back there, no pain?"_

_She nods, her voice childlike again but it works to the proper effect. He hates this, hates how manipulative he has become but he can feel the judgment and it isn't fair. As far as anyone else knows, his mom is sick. They didn't need to look at them like this, like they knew the truth that even Eddie only suspected._

_" I'll be okay, sweetie. It's a short drive, isn't it? And they can help the pain when I get there."_

_He nods and turns back to the cabbie, " Can you park on the left side of the entrance? There's a wheelchair ramp there, you know. For disabled people."_

_The old man nods curtly but he isn't eyeing his mother in the rearview anymore, like he's appalled at the way she takes up the whole two seats or maybe the discoloration of her ankles that peek from under the second hand poncho-like article._

_When they arrive, he takes to trying to push her in the wheelchair which leaves him trembling from the exertion. He doesn't remember it being this hard last time and he curses when she lets out a yelp as they go over a small bump near the door. He leaves her to check in, grabbing her purse so they can see her medical cards, knows her information by heart now. The receptionist is bubbly, friendly enough but he still feels harried, frustrated like every eye is on them. Can't they wait in a room or something? But he sits, having handed his mother's purse back to her. He picks at his nailbeds until she hisses at him to stop, something about bacteria and his hands touching things first, so he jiggles his leg. _

_Minutes tick by and it's after the appointment time. Her appointment was 8:15 and it was 8:18am now. He thinks about standing up and complaining but can't get up the courage. Plus, he knows the drill. They will call his mother back, she will make a show of struggling to get to the exam room, mentions her never ending back pain and muscles spasms...and he stays in his seat and waits for her to return cheerful with a new prescription order. He hates waiting for her almost as much as he hates waiting for the doctor to call her in._

_He hates the people who come in, clearly sick or in pain, coughing into the air or groaning in agony in a way that makes his chest feel tight. Finally, when the clock hits 8:27 he pulls his inhaler out and takes a hit which of course causes a pleased smile to cross his mother's face. It was a placebo that couldn't treat asthma, he knew. Everything was but somehow it helped the tightness, treated whatever he didn't have wrong._

_"Kaspbrak?"_

_He supposed the one change he liked was that the number of doctor visits for him had decreased by alot the last few years. It'd been a good 10 months since they'd called him to the back so he was a tinge relieved, even if he tried his best to ignore the way his mother groaned and panted as she followed the nurse to an exam room. The wait had begun. He gave them an hour before she returned and so he got comfortable, as comfortable as he could in the plastic chair. It was cold, he thought, shivering but he maintained his usual scowl to ward off any attempts at conversation. But his estimate proved incorrect when 20 minutes later, the nurse popped her head out._

_"Edward?"_

_He stared for an awkward moment and slowly stood, talking fast, " What happened? Is she done?"_

_"Please come back for a moment?"_

_He felt like he might need his inhaler again but he follows her to exam room 4, where his mom is sitting in her wheelchair. Her doctor is leaning against the exam table and looks cool as a cucumber, regardless of his mother's pursed lips. Eddie feels his heart skip a beat, having been on the receiving end of his mother's hawkish look numerous times. Swallowing, he stops in the doorway._

_The doctor holds up a syringe before Eddie can speak, " This is for insulin. You pinch a bit of fat on the belly, after taking the cap off-"_

_"W-what?!"_

_The doctor pauses, " Your mother's blood sugar was over 200 when she came in today. I had warned her last time that she needed to be careful, that the metformin couldn't replace diet changes."_

_Eddie feels lightheaded as he grips the doorframe, "What? I mean, so I would, hold on-"_

_" Sweetie, you know this runs in mommy's family. " Sonia says like this is all so very rational, "High blood sugar is hereditary-"_

_" You would see an improvement and no longer have to do injections with diet changes, " the doctor quips and it just seems cruel, Eddie thinks as he watches his mother turn red, " Now, young man, am I going to show you how or do you need visiting nurses?"_

_Eddie steps forward, but his head spins and this time, the spots in his vision turn into darkness._

_Who knows how long later, Eddie wakes up in pieces, feels hands touching his forehead, his wrist, his neck. He hears a sign and a grumble about getting both ends of the spectrum today, hyperglycemia and hypoglycemic. Eventually, he feels the edge of a cup to his lip and opens his mouth to take a sip. It's super sugary and he takes a gulp before he realizes when he's doing, before he realizes he can hear his mother wailing from the other room over the assurances of the nurse from before, he thinks. He blinks at the doctor who has sighed again and taken a seat._

_"No breakfast, I assume? A little dehydrated, I'd guess. Stress affects blood sugar, if you didn't know. " The doctor pins him with a tired look and Eddie can feel his hackles raising. Talk about poor bedside manner, he thinks and he pales, realizing that thought sounded a lot like his mother. Fuck, he thought as he rubbed at his face, contemplating another sip of juice._

_" There's a pamphlet for you, " the doctor says he moves to stand, retrieving it from a surgical tray._

_Eddie reads the front, something about nurses coming to your home to check on you and he immediately knows he can't do that. He only keeps the house clean 50 to 60% of the time. And his mom hated visitors. He hated needs and felt woozy just thinking about giving his mom injections, but in his mind there is literally no alternative. He tries to hand the pamphlet back but the doctor turns away, pointing at the cup still held in Eddie's left hand. Eddie takes another small sip but is interrupted just he starts to say he wants to learn about the insulin._

_"Finish it. All of it. And you're gonna sit there another good 15 minutes, " Eddie doesn't think his mother will last that long but the doctor looks stern; he's not someone Eddie has been to before._

_"I'll give her the shots, " he says when the cup is empty and crushed in his hand._

_"Without passing out?"_

_"Will you just show me how ?" Eddie snaps, and the doctor sighs, calling out for the nurse._

_"She'll show you. I've got another appointment and I'm already behind. I'd recommend you have VNs come a few times, kid. Just while she gets situated. I don't feel comfortable with a minor giving shots to his mom right off the bat, especially not after that reaction."_

_Eddie knows his face his turning pink; he thinks he'd prefer the nurse given her calm, motherly demeanor anyway but he has to argue, " I'm almost 16, I can handle it fine. I was just-"_

_The doctor has already left and the nurse smiles sympathetically, holding out what looks to be a black fanny pack with the belt. She takes out the needle, which is still scary even with the cap on and shows him the small bottle of insulin, shows how it says the necessary maintained temperature. He'll have to move things in the fridge but he'll make the vials fit, he thinks while she pinches her nearly flat belly, cleans a spot with a wipe, pretends to give herself a shot, and then uses another wipe to dab the area. She warns him there may be blood but her tone is soothing. So soothing his eyes start to tear up and she notices quickly, coiling an arm around him, "Dear, we can help you get a home nurse. You don't have to if you don't want to."_

_"I can do it, " he insists, sniffling, " I'm just...worried."_

_The nurse nods, " I understand. But as long as your mother watches her blood sugar with the glucose-meter, you'll be okay. It's not so scary after a while. The vials are premeasured and so you don't have to worry about giving her too much. And if anything happens, you just call our office or urgent care-"_

_"The doctor said her diet did this."_

_Startling, the nurse forces a smile, " Everything we eat has an impact on our bloodsugar. Carbs which become sugar in the blood and other forms of glucose should be limited. Proteins and lipids are recommended, like healthy fats and meat. Is it...is it just the two of you?" He nods and she speaks carefully, " Do you...do the grocery shopping?"_

_Eddie pauses because he can feel the weight of guilt on him because he buys all the junk food, buys whatever his mom desires but it's not like he really has a choice. His mom would cry, yell, hiss...whatever it took to make him regret not bringing her the food or drink she wanted._

_He didn't know what would happen if he flat our refused her the snacks and sweets she was use to. He'd tried offering her healthier options, and was rebuffed every time, looked at him like he was trying to poison her. And he couldn't hold out when she yelled; he faltered every time, like a deck of cards. He didn't want to fight her. There had to be another solution. Maybe...maybe she would realize with the insulin shots everyday that she had to change. Maybe she'd be more willing to eat healthy, maybe they could do it together, and maybe if she wasn't in such pain-_

_"Did the doctor renew her prescriptions?" he blurted, the nurse blinking in surprise, "She...she had a problem with a renewal at the pharmacy."_

_The nurse frowned, " The doctor...changed her prescription for muscle relaxers. Her alprazolam was automatically renewed so that should already be good for pick up, at the pharmacy you have set up. But the doctor thinks she may be retaining water so she'll start something else, see how that works but it works well-"_

_"Does it help with her pain?" he asked, nearly demanded._

_"Um, well, yes, " the nurse says and she seems bewildered, unsure as Eddie hops of the exam table he'd been placed on. He can hear his mother in the next room and he thinks he'll need to take another hit off his inhaler before he calls the cab driver. It's oddly easy to focus on his mental list. He has to get them to the pharmacy, no, home first. He'll take her home and then he'll go to the pharmacy and maybe...maybe he could go to class for a little? He might be able to make his glasses given it wasn't even eleven yet. He began unlocking his mother's wheelchair, pushing her towards the door only to realize it wouldn't fit when she gave a yelp._

_"Edward, what has gotten into you?!"_

_He winces, face red with shame, " You gotta stand. I'm gonna push the chair through and then we can go. "_

_"I'm not through yet. That doctor refused me my medication, " she had tears in her eyes but he didn't have the patience to stay here a moment longer; her crocodile tears couldn't convince him in the least, " My back is in agony. How a licensed doctor can deny me relief, I don't know. He knows I have a child to care for, knows I can't just suffer because he doesn't want to write me a note-"_

_"Mom, the nurse said-"_

_"It's despicable. It's inhumane-"_

_Eddie lets out a noisy wheeze beneath his mother's tirade but she keeps on, and on, and on. He knows this is exactly how she'll react if he confronts her about the food so what can he really do? He listens, tries his best to get her to stand so he can get the chair out of the exam room._

_The nurses and doctor seem to be avoiding them, leaving it to Eddie to get his mother to reception, where he absolutely refuses the visiting nurses, and struggles to count out the money for the copay with shaking hands. His mother has fallen silent by then, brooding in her chair as he tries to keep the dizziness at bay. He doesn't feel up to going to school anymore, he thinks as he dials a yellow cab on the receptionist's phone knowing the number by heart._

  
  
  


The first thing that he hears when he wakes up is the distant sound of his wife arguing and whispers outside the hospital room door. The next thing he hears is the sound of a phone vibrating on wood. Looking around in the darkness of the room, the lights turned off and the door partially closed, it doesn't take him long to see the light of the illuminated screen. He answers it thoughtlessly though it takes him a moment to get his jaw working; he slurs nonetheless.

"...'ello?"

" Did you forget or you just want me to make the first move?" The deep, kinda nasal voice mocks." That's fine. I'm all about that pursuit."

" Huh?" Eddie says, rubbing his face.

" You sound like I just woke you up but isn't it 5:30 where you are? You are the one making me call after 9 here. Don't tell me that you are such an old man that you go to bed this early. Wow, who knew the wild Eds Spageds would grow up to be so lame."

Eddie struggles to think and that is when he is rescued. His wife enters the room and produces a flood of light from opening the door. He doesn't struggle when Mayra takes the phone from his hand with a scowl, saying to the person on the other end rather rudely, " Look, whoever this is, my husband is in the hospital. He can work on one of your stupid contracts when he's not bedridden."

With that she hangs up and sighs, looking at him angrily, " You're still picking up calls from work, even now."

Even though he is not sure what she means in his disoriented state, he still wants to tell her that he is sorry. Desperate, he calls out to her though it still doesn't come out as clearly as normal. He thinks it's not just saline, that they must have some medication in his IV but he doesn't know what.

"M'sorry."

She doesn't answer for a moment, " I know, Eddie, know you are."

Before he can contemplate her words further, she is already turning on her heel, leaving the room all together and taking his phone with her. The door shuts with what seems to be a noisy click and casts him into suffocating darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

They discharge him the next morning, after having him speak to a nutritionist and handing him a vanilla flavored protein shake in a small bottle. He holds it for as long as he can before he drinks it in one, long sip. Mayra is already pacing, on the phone with her assistant manager; Eddie's phone is still sticking out of her back pocket. When she ends the call, she frowns at him and tugs at her shirt which hugs the outline of her stomach rolls. He's already dressed, sitting in a wheelchair with a bored nurse standing at the door.

"Your work called you six more times last night. I think you should take that to HR."

Eddie nods but he has no plans to do that, knowing that those calls are either from Richie or Mike, or both. He doesn't want to mention who is calling because that will just mean more questions, and perhaps him having to reveal he is trying therapy which will just make her fuss more. She's already riled about the price of the rental car that is waiting in the hospital parking lot, and the call from their insurance about looking at the car; it was currently sitting at a mechanic's on the Upper East Side which...he sighed as the nurse began to wheel him towards the elevator.

"Honey, I think you should take a vacation."

"I can't. Not only have I not given proper notice but-"

"You were in a car accident. You have whiplash and apparently you haven been taking the vitamins I gave you. You're overworking yourself, and I can't stand it. I won't stand for it, Eddie, I won't!" Her voice went from a gentle coo to an angry hiss; the nurse looks uncomfortable, trapped in the elevator with them until they reach the first floor; Eddie wishes they would descend faster, just as uncomfortable. There is no arguing with his wife when she is like this, and he understands that she is just worried about his health but he's fine. He's been doing this job for years and hasn't slipped up yet. There were times of high activity, and then downtime, and it just so happened this was almost high activity time. On top of this, the car, and Mike and Richie- He winced. He needed to call Richie ASAP. No matter how much he was dreading it. 

"Let me talk to my boss, " he says, as the elevator beeps, " Can I please have my phone?"

She seems reluctant to hand it over but finally does. He suspects that she has gone through it, given how many applications are open like his email, texts, Facebook Messenger, images, etc. but it is not like he's worried. He doesn't even know what she's looking for. An affair? Financial issues? The contact for HR so she could call herself? But he can see that all the new messages are from Richie, and they are all read. So she had seen them. He swallows convulsively as he is rolled towards the car; the wheelchair struggles to get across the uneven pavement of the parking garage. Why hadn't Mayra confronted him? She was usually very direct and yet she had played it off as if she just thought work was trying to contact him. Only three of the calls are from the Facebook app while the rest are from his boss, from Mrs. Caballero's office (this morning), and then two from Mike.

** _The Richie Toz_ **

_Missed call 5:39pm EST_

_Missed call 5:40pm EST_

_Missed call 5:44pm EST_

_dude ur in the hospital??_

_call me. now i'm worried as hell. i might legit go bald over this_

Eddie can't help but smile at the bald comment but it disappears fast, as he moves the discharge papers off his lap and stands. He gets into the car without a problem, uncomfortable but accepting that Mayra would be driving. He nods to the nurse who leaves quickly, then turns back to his phone. He sees the last message and winces.

_ **The Richie Toz** _

_...you talked to mike first??_

Shit. He knew the two were in contact; in was the only Loser who hadn't stayed in contact in some way, according to Mike. And Richie had probably seen that Mike was a mutual friend now, or maybe even Mike had reached out to everyone about him. Nervous, he quickly begins to type a response before he loses his nerves; the protein shake has steadied him more than he thought it would, he realizes. Looking up as Mayra starts the car, he knows she is watching him but he's already caught. He thinks the best think to do is wait for her to say what she is thinking and then respond, because he never knew what kind of situation Mayra would imagine up sometimes. He remembered in the past accusations of cheating or infidelity because he had dared to hire a female intern, for example, even though she was to assist the office, not just him. And when he had suggested they get a cat, she had misconstrued that as him feeling lonely at home or as him wanting to rub it in her face that they couldn't have children. (He didn't quite get that one.)

** _Edward J. Kaspbrak_ **

_I'm sorry about missing the scheduled call yesterday. Yes, unfortunately I was in the hospital, following a car accident. As for contacting Mike_

_I happened to get in contact with him first. I didn't seek anyone out in particular, and actually looked for each of our former friend group._

_ **The Richie Toz** _

_so i can add you to the group chat? if you wanna connect with everyone? _

_and its cool. glad ur ok. can i call you right now?_

Eddie looks over at Mayra whose face is blank as she drives; it's somewhat of an awkward silence without even the radio between them. He regrets lying to Richie but he knows if he told him he had thought of Mike first, he would be offended. He didn't mind being in a group chat but then again...he didn't respond to that. He'd talk about it when he called. Because he had to, call that is. Suddenly feeling anxious, it takes him a good 10 minutes to formulate a response. He sees the three dots appear that mean Richie is typing but he doesn't sending another response, seemingly waiting.

** _Edward J. Kaspbrak_ **

_In a bit, please. I'm being discharged and would prefer to call you when I have arrived home from the hospital._

_ **The Richie Toz** _

_sounds good, robot ed_

_u sound so professional lol_

_call me whenever, im not doing anything. i know mike is great and all but i thought i was first on your list. but ive been wrong before. _

** _Edward J. Kaspbrak_ **

_I'll talk to you soon._

He tries not let his words circulate in his head. First on his list? Wrong before? He needs to distract himself or he might just start to panic over all the thoughts and feelings threatening to rise up. With that, he does call his boss and as for the day. He promises to provide documentation, and he manages to call Sheila at Mrs. Caballero's office, being vague enough that he's pretty sure Mayra thinks its a follow up with the nutritionist or even a chiropractor appointment. He wants to call Mike and get some courage before he has to talk to Richie (why does he feel like a man headed to the gallows?) but he ends up sending a text. When he's somewhere private, he'll call. Mayra is likely going to drop him off about go back to work. She often tries to fuss over him, but when she was already upset with him, usually she gave him the silent treatment instead. Mike doesn't respond right away, but it's just a simple heads up that he went to the hospital, that's he's fine, and that he'll call in an hour or so.

Mayra parks and they sit quietly for a moment, Eddie waiting for the confrontation, " Who are you talking to? Who is Richie Toz?"

"He's a friend from highschool. I got a call from an old friend, a mutual friend, and Richie reached out."

His wife squints, " Why all of a sudden? You didn't say anything about reaching our to people from Maine. And it's not even like there is a reunion coming up. You hate reunions. I've bugged you about going to mine for years-"

"It was just a random thing. Am I not allowed to have friends?"

She startles at his harsh tone and immediately her face goes to angry then...her eyes start to water, " All I try to do is take care of you, Edward. I put up with all your little...insecurities. I put up with your attitude, and, and your lashing out-"

"Look, I'm sorry, Mayra-"

"Just, just get out. I'm going to work. I can't handle this right now." she snaps, her voice rising. When he stays frozen, she shoves him and then tries to reach across him to open his car door but her seatbelt is already cutting into her and her belly is already pressed tight against the steering wheel. She can't maneuver well which just frustrates her more. Looking back in her seat and panting slightly, she yells, " Get out already! Just go!"

He does as she asks, wincing as the tires squeal as she tears out of the parking garage. The lithe man heads to the elevator, his phone burning a hole in his pocket. He has an hour. He wants nothing more then to go inside and curl up in his bed forever but he isn't a child anymore that can avoid his responsibilities and commitments. He had reached out to Richie and Mike and well maybe it wasn't the wisest, he was already facing the consequences. He might as well following through with the crime.

Eddie gives himself an hour before he calls Richie and he wishes suddenly they had something stronger than wine at home. Some liquid courage would really help him right about now, he thinks just as he hears a notification sound. Hands shaking, he pulls open the Facebook application and can't help but snort despite the sickening anxiety and regret he feels.

_ **The Richie Toz** _

_ill be waitin with bells on eds_

**Author's Note:**

> Update: I have made substantial changes and revisions as of May 2020.
> 
> Hello, all. Please leave kudos if you enjoyed. I'm not really feeling this story anymore but I'll try to continue it if there are still people reading.


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